


refraction

by caroes3725



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Romance, F/M, Post-Canon, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:09:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 31
Words: 182,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26367733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caroes3725/pseuds/caroes3725
Summary: Making choices after the war was supposed to be the easy part. Her future decided and neatly packaged based on what everyoneelsewanted for her, what she should want, too.But Katara’s destiny had a funny way of being exactly what she wanted to run from.(As if anyone needed another Zutara post-finale slow burn after 15 years.)
Relationships: Katara/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 691
Kudos: 734





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have little preamble to this story, other than that after many years I finally had the time and energy to write it, and it’s an obnoxiously slow burn!
> 
> The first two chapters will include some additional or reworked scenes from the last season (starting with the Southern Raiders). But for the most part I won't be re-treading scenes or dialogue from the show since it’s been 15 years and we all know and enjoy how those scenes go :)

Zuko would never admit it, especially not a year ago, but there was something that terrified him about Katara. She was an enormously passionate (and hard-headed) person, which made her a powerful bender, one of the most naturally gifted he’d seen other than his sister. Her skills had been middling at best when they first met, and then after a few weeks, once she’d had a small taste of the training he’d been getting for years, she was a fierce opponent, so fierce that with his stupid, frail ego, he’d taunted her about being little and a peasant.

He knew better now, despite being taught when he was younger that firebenders were the most powerful. Anyone who had a hundred ice spikes barreling towards their face thanks to Katara may not believe that.

It wasn’t him, for once, in danger of her wrath, though he had _put_ that person in her path, thinking it would gain him the favor he was so desperate to curry from her. Seeing her standing in front of Yon Rha, shaking with rage, made him wonder if this was really the right way to go about getting her to accept him. He had thought that surely a person like Katara would never kill someone so violently, even out of revenge, but found himself faltering once he saw the look in her eyes on the road.

Katara did relent, seconds before her decision became one she could not take back, the rain falling around them again as she spoke and Yon Rha trembled before her. 

She ran— _bolted_ —through the rain when she was through, not on the road but over the grassy knoll beside them, surprisingly swift considering they were both soaked completely through with water.

Zuko threw one last glare in Yon Rha’s direction, cowering in the mud like the pathetic man he was, before jogging after her. He feared he’d lost her, chest clenching unreasonably tight at that prospect considering after her last waterbending display it was obvious she was perfectly capable of defending herself. He found her huddling at the base of a large tree, hardly visible from the torrential downpour, knees pulled to her chest.

He reached the halo of branches of the tree, which protected him somewhat from the rain. He wiped the water from his face and managed to push back some of his hair from his eyes.

Zuko hesitated and did not walk up beside her. This was so _very_ far from a situation he had any experience with. He felt deeply the pain and inner conflict he knew was raging inside Katara, but who was he to sit beside her and provide comfort?

She had made it perfectly clear just days ago the extent of her disdain for him, and he couldn’t blame her. He’d thought—it was stupid, looking back—that he could make it up to her by delivering what she wanted: her mother’s killer. Instead he’d only caused her more distress.

Zuko shifted uncomfortably from the other side of the tree—he could only see one side of her elbow, the ends of her baggy clothes fanned out, the black they’d worn and then the water tribe blue underneath, stained darker because it was completely soaked. He couldn’t hear it over the rain, but she was crying, shoulders shaking. 

It felt intrusive, watching her like that, when he was at a loss for words and the _last_ person she’d want to see. His foot hesitantly slid backwards, then the other, slightly unsteady on the rapidly softening dirt under him.

Zuko trudged back to the road—Yon Rha long gone—and then down the hillside to where they’d left Appa. The sky bison was waiting patiently, feet tucked under his massive body, head down, until Zuko reached him, and Appa gave him lick in greeting, which was not as annoying as usual considering he was soaking wet.

He nestled into the fur on Appa’s side, propping himself up with his feet. The rain subsided considerably as he waited, then disappeared completely, leaving behind humid air and the strong scent of dirt and grass. The clouds parted too, shafts of sunlight breaking through, drying him off as he stood vigil.

Eventually—he wasn’t sure how long—he heard the crunch of grass and spotted Katara’s dark hair as she crossed the field behind Appa. He scrambled to a standing position when she reached him.

“Katara…”

Her eyes, bloodshot and rimmed with red, flicked up to him—she still looked angry, and he was afraid it was directed at him.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“No,” she replied stiffly. “But we need to get back.”

Katara brushed past him, while Zuko took a step in her direction. “I can steer, you should-,”

“I don’t want to rest,” she said, frowning. “Come on.”

Zuko hesitated, but then climbed onto Appa after her; before he was even sitting, she grabbed the reins and sent them flying upwards. He staggered down into the saddle, fingers scrabbling along the side of it. His back was to Katara as she steered, but he twisted so he could see her, only his head poking over the side.

He couldn’t very well force her to talk or sleep—instead he sat there wringing his hands in consternation at his utter inability to comfort her, or not be despised by her. He was sorry her mother was dead, of course, sorry that the Fire Nation was the reason, but clearly her quest for revenge had not yielded the results she wanted. She was not at peace, not that killing Yon Rha would have accomplished that anyway, and he had still betrayed her. He was a stranger, other than being an enemy, and he doubted that meant she wanted his audience for such a vulnerable moment.

As if to confirm his spiraling and negative thoughts, Katara did not speak, did not turn her head once as they floated through the sky. He tried to stay awake as long he could, but eventually, his head lolled back and he dozed off.

When he awoke, the sun was setting—a beautiful sight on Appa over the water, with the pastel sky in full view. He’d been in the air before, on war balloons, but somehow gliding along on a sky bison felt far more peaceful. They had made good progress on their journey, but it would take at least a few more hours to reach their camp.

Katara had not moved from where he’d seen her last, body rigid, eyes ahead, hair whipping around her. He wrapped his hand around the side of Appa’s saddle, but hesitated hopping over it.

Zuko did eventually—he _had_ to talk to her, had to make this right or be sorry, whatever it took. Perhaps some practice with a badgerfrog would have helped, but they were not often (or ever) spotted at this altitude, so he hesitantly climbed down beside her.

He tried to keep his distance, but there wasn’t much space on Appa’s head. They sat in silence, and Katara did not acknowledge him, except for her eyes following him when he sat.

“You should get some rest,” he said. 

Katara was still quiet, and he was afraid he’d said something wrong, before she let out a heavy sigh. “We won’t be long now.”

Zuko panicked internally after that, which was ridiculous and his own fault because he’d said _one_ thing and was out of ideas to continue the conversation. Katara beat him in breaking the silence. 

“Thank you for finding out what happened to my mother.”

His eyes widened slightly—he was not expecting a _thank you_. More like a _how could you_.

“I feel like I only made it worse.”

Katara shook her head. “I wanted to know. I did, even if I-,” Her hands tightened around the reins, knuckles white. “-didn’t do anything about it.”

“I know you were angry, but…” He hesitated, uncertain if she’d even _want_ his opinion. “I think you did the right thing.”

Her brow furrowed slightly. “You never sided with Aang and Sokka when we talked about it before.”

“I didn’t think you’d appreciate my input-,”

Katara grimaced. “True.”

“And I didn’t want to tell you what to do anyway. Uncle Iroh never—I mean, even when I was being absolutely impossible, he didn’t-,” His hand had risen to his hair, which was tangled slightly from the wind. “Sorry, I’m—rambling. There are just some things you need to realize for yourself.” 

Katara shifted slightly. “What if I had killed him, then? Would you have tried to stop me?”

“No,” he said. “You had every right, after what he did to your mother.”

Her head dropped, hair sliding over one shoulder. “I wanted to. I was so convinced I would.” 

“You weren’t consumed by it in the end,” he replied. 

She clenched her fist. “I should be ashamed,” she said, harsh tone returning. “The things I did, I…”

He knew immediately what she meant because it had scared him at the time. On the Southern Raiders ship, she’d controlled the body of the captain somehow. It was unsettling, certainly, but it’s not as if his rage hadn’t made him do bad things.

“You mean on the ship?” he asked quietly. 

“I did what I thought I had to,” Katara said. 

“Is it—a form of waterbending?”

“Blood bending,” she spat. “It’s…vile, and I swore I would never use it.”

Zuko sighed. “I have experience with regret.”

“We’re not the same,” she snapped, at his contemplative look, and he winced.

“I know,” he said hastily. “I’m sorry—I’m not—I only meant that I understand.”

Katara looked over at him, face a little softer, but she did not apologize. Instead she flipped her hair back behind her and fixed her eyes ahead of them.

Thinking she wanted nothing further, he lifted one knee to stand and return to Appa’s saddle. She spoke before he straightened.

“Why should I believe you’re different than before?”

Zuko paused. “I am. I-,”

“Oh well I’m convinced,” she interjected dryly, gaze hardened, not the light-hearted sarcasm she broke out with her friends.

He huffed. “Listen, I understand your hesitation, and I—I deserve it after Ba Sing Se, but-,” His hand dropped into his lap. “I know that my father is a monster and that he needs to be stopped. I was so caught up in gaining his approval and my honor that I lost sight of that.”

Katara pursed her lips. “And you think that being nice to us, doing all these trips is—is enough? What if it’s all a trick?”

“I’m teaching Aang to defeat Ozai, that must mean something,” he said.

“You used your own _mother_ to commiserate with me and make me think you had changed!” 

“That wasn’t a trick!” he insisted, more angrily than he intended. “I didn’t lie, and I thought about helping you against Azula like my uncle wanted!”

“Well you didn’t,” she snapped back. “And Aang _died_.”

He wanted to shout at her, but thought better of it, instead just crossing his arms, with his brow furrowed. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“I don’t-,” She exhaled sharply. “I don’t want any more apologies,” she muttered. 

Zuko clenched his jaw tight—he seemed to only make _backwards_ progress with her, and for some reason that he couldn’t articulate even to Sokka, he cared deeply about that failure. Maybe he feared if those he betrayed could not believe he was changed, he really wasn’t.

He wordlessly turned and crawled back up to Appa’s saddle—Katara did not stop him, did not even watch him as he climbed over it and disappeared from view.

Zuko slumped down with his hands over his stomach. “Great going, Zuko,” he muttered to himself because every single conversation he had with Katara felt like poking an angry bear, even when he was apologizing.

It was worse that she was right. Good deeds, for Sokka or Aang or even her, didn’t mean that he wouldn’t pick Azula again in the end if given the chance. _He_ knew he would not, but why would Katara believe that, and why would she take his word for it?

The whole situation was impossible and awful, and his only solace was that he deserved it, and that perhaps, once he defeated Ozai and Azula at her side, she’d believe that he was actually trying very hard to not be so bad at being good. 

====

They landed at the dock near their camp in the evening, right on the beach. Katara guided Appa deftly downward, even in near darkness. When Appa’s paws were safely in the sand, Zuko leapt over the saddle and down without a word, clearly deterred by Katara’s brusqueness from their last conversation. He had pulled off the black clothes they had worn, so she could see his red tunic better as he started his retreat in the dim light. 

Katara dropped Appa’s reins and slid to the ground.

“Zuko.”

He stopped, giving her a hesitant look, shoulders tense—like she was going to punch him in the face, which she may have considered doing in the past. On multiple occasions.

And yet now—for weeks, actually—he’d been parading around, pretending— _insisting_ —that things were different. Rescuing her father, teaching Aang. She couldn’t help but think it was all an attempt to lower their guard so he could betray them again in the end.

If that was the case, he was one hell of an actor. He was… incredibly sincere and earnest and nervous, which was frustrating because Zuko, Crown Prince of the Fire Nation, was supposed to be one-dimensional: evil, like his father and sister.

He was far more complicated than that and—and sad, honestly. Maybe not so deserving of her derisive treatment now, no matter what he’d done before.

“It was not my intention to be so harsh,” she eventually said. “I know you’re trying.”

“And I will keep trying,” he replied.

Katara crossed her arms. “You are nothing if not tenacious, that’s for sure.”

He did not smile at that, looking too guilty, eyes scanning the dock beside them. “You were right earlier. After what I’ve done, you have no reason to believe that anything is different.”

She hated that she felt sorry for him. She hated that he was doing everything _right_ , even if she didn’t want to believe him. He’d risked his own life, including against his own sister, and no matter how many times she derided him, or snapped at him, he just took it. That wasn’t—it was not how she expected some spoiled noble to act.

Katara let out a slow exhale—she was exhausted, a tiredness in her bones, not just from physical fatigue. Her rage had felt so righteous once, it consumed and propelled her, but now it just felt like a burden. Something she was carrying and letting fester for no reason except that she was afraid to trust again. 

“I’m…” She sighed again and dropped her hands. “I’m willing to move forward, Zuko.”

His brow furrowed. “You are?”

Katara’s thoughts were suddenly jumbled—the older, jaded side of herself told her it was because she was a sucker and an idiot, seeing the utter earnestness on his face and feeling _compassion_ for him. Thinking he was brave for leaving absolutely everything in his life behind on principle, on the slim chance that he could do something, anything, to erase his family’s legacy of bad acts. She wanted so badly for all that to be true, if not just for her, but for the whole world—to prove that even the greatest enemies could find a way to seek peace and demand a new course for an entire nation, no matter the consequences.

“I’m ready to forgive you,” she said with a nod.

He smiled, though it was small. She could hardly see him in the low light, just his dark hair and the outline of his scar against his skin.

She’d never asked where he’d gotten the mark, none of them had. Maybe because it was a sensitive topic, or maybe because for so long she’d convinced herself when he was hunting them that the tiny sliver of ugliness on this otherwise handsome boy was just a reflection of his insides, a warning about his villainous nature. The mark of a banished prince, he called it, from a nation bent on destroying everything in its path.

Guilt surged through her at those old thoughts. How convinced she’d been of his absolute immorality after Ba Sing Se and how angry she’d been when he first sought out forgiveness, as if young people like them never made mistakes.

Katara reached out and hugged him, because the poor boy needed one—because she realized that if she truly wanted Zuko to be good, then maybe that meant she should help him, encourage him, show him the kindness she’d extended in the caves of Ba Sing Se that got him just close enough to turning his back on his sister the first time.

Zuko stiffened at first—people from the Fire Nation didn’t seem particularly affectionate—before he put his hands lightly on her waist. He was warm, not surprising for a firebender, and quickly released her when her hands dropped from his shoulders.

“Thank you, Katara.” 

She started to reply, when she heard the crunch of sand behind them, and Aang’s voice, as he waved and shouted to them from the other side of the beach, as if they’d been gone for an eternity. Aang would be no doubt elated to hear that she had not followed through with her original plan—no thanks to his lecture, though, and she _certainly_ was not going to forgive Yon Rha as Aang had encouraged, despite the fact that she spared the old man’s life. Especially since she had already forgiven Zuko—that seemed enough forgiveness for the day. Or a lifetime. 

====

Katara was understandably on edge anywhere in the Fire Nation—somehow knowing Ozai was closer than ever made her nervous, and it’s not as if their rag-tag group, including their new member, blended in very easily.

Her concern was heightened when Zuko suggested they make camp on real estate owned by the _actual_ Fire Lord—a beach house, which of course elated Sokka and Toph, but Katara did not know whether hiding in plain sight was really a good idea. Ember Island was isolated, at least, and staying put in the house gave Zuko and Aang plenty of time to train because they’d stopped moving around.

The house was big enough for them all, certainly, even enough for Suki and Sokka to furtively disappear for stretches of time doing what Zuko would call _losing focus on the task at hand_. Katara did not have the same luxury as her brother to gallivant off and had to take stock of what they had in the house. She knew it would be all fun and games at the beach until everyone was ravenous and pointing fingers about who should have made food.

To circumvent that possibility, Katara went rooting through the attic, which was filled with various half-emptied sacks and supplies. Some personal items too, like carved wooden toys and clothes—it was odd to think Zuko was once that age. Maybe he’d been less grumpy as a child. 

Naturally there was dust absolutely everywhere—Zuko was not wrong when he said this place was abandoned and had only been used when his family was happy, which was apparently a _very_ long time ago. Some dust flew up in her face as she shifted boxes around, straight up her nose, which made her sneeze.

The sound startled someone who was walking up the stairs. She turned and saw Zuko peer around the corner. He relaxed upon seeing her, which was a new development—he’d always been tense with her before, understandably, because she had taken to snapping at him every chance she got.

They were past that, and she was glad—since their trip, she had to begrudgingly admit there was more to his personality than _evil crown prince_. He was stubborn and serious, but he worked harder than any of them, and to her surprise even made the occasional dry joke that wrested a smile from her. 

“What are you doing up here?” he asked.

“Looking for some pots and pans,” she explained, as she pushed herself to her feet. “Any idea where I could find some?”

He had the decency to blush. “Oh, uh, no, I’m sorry. We never—that is, I never-,”

“You had servants to cook for you,” she finished, brow raised. 

“Right,” he said sheepishly. 

“I suppose I can’t expect you to firebend _and_ do chores,” Katara said with a wave of her hand, turning back to the boxes. 

“I’m not totally useless,” he insisted, stepping forward. “Once I was in Ba Sing Se, there was—we had to do everything ourselves.”

“I was only teasing,” she said. “You actually make pretty good tea.”

Zuko walked over to her, old floorboards creaking under his feet, and knelt down beside a chest she hadn’t opened. “I learned from Uncle. He takes it quite seriously.”

She flushed red now that he was closer—the things in the box in front of her were not the sort she should be rummaging through. In addition to some toys and clothes, she’d found a separate stash of letters and pictures, including what was (hopefully) one of baby Zuko. She thought to show it to him, but instead spotted another unfurled scroll with a dark-haired woman on it. She was beautiful, in ornate Fire Nation regalia, including a crown.

Katara gently brushed her fingertips over it and then lifted it up. “Zuko, I think this is…”

He leaned over, close enough that she heard his breath hitch. “My—my mother.”

“I’m sorry,” she said hastily, moving to stuff it back into the chest. “I shouldn’t-,”

Zuko put his hand over hers where she gripped the parchment, stopping her. “It’s okay,” he said, though his eyes were on the picture and not her.

“I didn’t mean to root through all your personal things,” she murmured.

Katara dropped her hand, so he could hold it himself, and he leaned back so he was sitting on the floor.

“I’ve never seen this one,” he remarked.

“She’s beautiful.”

He gave a short nod. “Yes, she is—was.”

Katara soothed her hand over her leg, eyes down, hating that she’d forced such memories upon him when he looked so forlorn.

“It sounds like you were close.”

His chin was trembling, and she felt bad for what she said. He looked down and cleared his throat.

“Very,” he murmured. “Other than Uncle, she was the only person who…”

Zuko trailed off with a sigh, and she put her hand on his shoulder.

“She’d be very proud of you if she were here.”

He was quiet, brow creased, before he abruptly rolled up the parchment and put it back into the chest. Katara turned to face him more, but he’d already stood, turning away from her with his hand on the back of his neck.

She didn’t hurry to stand beside him—she knew she could be too overbearing sometimes—and sat with her legs folded under her, watching light from the window illuminate dust floating in lazy trails around them.

“I’m sorry, Zuko,” she said quietly. He showed such attachment to his mother--it had frankly surprised her once before, that there was something that could make someone she'd categorically hated seem so...human. It reminded her that he was young, like her, and maybe a little lost. Hurt by the Fire Nation just as much as she was, but expected to love it and be loyal to it.

He furtively rubbed his eyes before clearing his throat again, not facing her. “Do you…have any pictures of your mother?”

Katara smiled ruefully. “No, we never—it’s a thing for much wealthier people, I think,” she said, then reached up and grasped her necklace. “I haven’t forgotten her face, though. Maybe someday I will, but I—I try not to think about it.”

Zuko looked over his shoulder. “I’m sorry I took your necklace. If I had known it belonged to your mother, I would have never-,”

Katara stood and walked over to him. “I believe you.”

Zuko faced her—he was the tallest out of all of them, edging out Sokka by just a little to her brother’s chagrin. Despite that, he felt so small sometimes, carrying too much guilt, probably, and shame.

He ran his hand through his hair. “You know I can wash dishes,” he said. “Whatever you need. Help with the fire too…obviously.”

She certainly did not want to dwell on this difficult conversation any further, so she let him change the subject and gave a small smile.

“The Crown Prince doing _dishes_?” she said, feigning surprise. “Perhaps you really have changed.”

He lifted his gaze to her—she expected him to be serious and exasperated like he was whenever he was teased, but he smiled back, softly.

“I have,” he said.

Before she could reply, there was a loud crash downstairs, loud enough that it rattled the old walls, followed by peals of laughter, which were unmistakably Aang and Toph’s. Zuko’s smile quickly faded to a frown.

“Aang is supposed to be training,” he muttered. 

Katara stepped aside with a small laugh, letting him pass her and hurry down the stairs, his footsteps loud enough that she could also hear Aang and Toph fleeing from the house and slamming the door behind them. If she went to the window, she’d probably see Aang rushing to pretend to meditate. 

Zuko did actually clean the dishes that night. She didn’t even ask him, he just quietly slipped away while they sat in a circle talking and started scrubbing in the kitchen. He steeped tea while he did, came back and passed it around when it was ready. Aang and Sokka complained that it wasn’t ginseng—he’d exclusively made jasmine so far, which was her favorite, so she didn’t mind. Even if it was ginseng, or awful-tasting, it wouldn’t matter because he was trying so earnestly—passionately, even, and she didn’t think it was just because of his guilt, that’s just who he was. Someone who cared deeply about things, and maybe he’d been focused on the wrong things before, his honor, but now he knew what was right.

She was glad to have him on their team. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops I know I said two chapters of S3 scenes, but turns out its going to be three chapters!

Because the production of the Ember Island Players ended on such a somber note, Zuko resisted the urge to tell his friends _I told you so_ when it ended—but he _had_ warned them that it would be awful, if _Love Amongst the Dragons_ was any indication. And it was indeed a travesty, not just because the ending was a serious buzzkill.

He’d like to chalk his and Aang’s defeat in the play up to Fire Nation propaganda, but that’s not all it was. Their victory against Ozai was nowhere near guaranteed. Aang had made great progress in his training, but he was just a child, and it had hardly been a year since he began his attempt to master all four elements. Even if Aang _could_ square off against Ozai, how could they expect to take on Azula too?

Zuko knew he could not sleep with those thoughts swirling, so he quietly shuffled outside the house when they returned from the show. It was dark but balmy by the beach—he had shed the cloak that hid his identity at the theatre and sat with this legs outstretched, watching the moon rise high above the waves. The tide had just receded, so the sand was packed tight under him.

He heard footsteps behind him and turned when they were close. He couldn’t see as well as he’d like in the dark, but he could tell it was Katara by the ends of her dress fluttering and the outline of her hair. She froze, stopping in the looser sand behind him.

“Zuko,” she said.

He went to scramble up, but she raised a hand. “I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

“It’s—you have far more reason to be out here than me,” he said, gesturing back to the full moon above them.

She sat down beside him. “Is something troubling you?”

“No,” he said hastily. “I-I—you have enough to deal with taking care of everyone else. I don’t want to burden you.”

They both knew that was true, but still she smiled slightly. “It’s okay, Zuko.”

He hesitated before sitting back down beside her. “That was an awful production.”

“That’s why you’re upset?” she asked with a short laugh.

“No, though it _was_ painful to watch. I-,” He sighed, his mood not buoyed by her laugh for long. “I just can’t afford to lose to Azula, like they think.”

“You won’t,” she assured him, with the same fierceness and single-mindedness she approached everything else.

He shook his head. “I know you’ve fought her before, but—but I fear we don’t even know half of what she’s capable of. She has tremendous natural skill, like you.”

Katara raised an eyebrow. “Like me?”

He flushed red. “I-I mean, I am—I do too,” he said hastily. “Azula is just—well, you’ve seen her. What she can do. I never thought I’d be as good as her.”

“Why not?” she asked.

“She was a prodigy. I was—far from that,” he said. “When I was born my father tried to cast me out because he thought I wouldn’t be a bender at all.”

Her brow furrowed. “What do you mean cast you out?”

“Over the palace walls, after I was born.”

She wrapped her arms around her legs, frowning. “Zuko, that’s awful.”

“I became one, eventually,” he said with a shrug. “Just never as powerful as Azula.”

Katara grinned and rocked backwards. “Or me.”

“I regret saying that,” he muttered.

“You can’t take it back,” she said teasingly. “I’m better, its official.”

“I never said _better_.”

Katara rolled her eyes. “Oh, yes, of course, you are far superior to a Water Tribe _peasant_.” 

He stiffened. “I’m sorry-,”

“I was kidding,” she interjected, then shook her head. “You don’t have to apologize every time we bring something like that up.”

His hand tightened around his knee. “I think I will, for the time being.”

“Zuko-,”

He hurriedly spoke. “And for what it’s worth, you _quickly_ proved yourself during our, uh, meetings.” He rubbed his neck. “I—I know it’s not worth much, but I always respected your skill.”

“A _little_ something, I suppose,” she said. “Not everyone feels that way. I was told at the North Pole that I was not allowed to train with the waterbending master because I was a girl.”

“That’s ridiculous,” he said. 

She shrugged. “I got my way eventually.”

“How’s that?” he asked. 

“I challenged Master Pakku to a fight.”

His lip ticked up slightly. “You probably gave him a run for his money, too.”

“I’d like to think so,” she replied with a smug look. Then she broke into a brief fit of laughter. 

“What?” he asked, slightly taken aback.

Katara shook her head. “I used to be so afraid of you-,”

He grimaced. “I’m _sorry_ -,”

“Zuko!” she cut in with a small smile. “I laughed because—because you were just as afraid of me.”

“I was not _afraid_ ,” he sputtered, which was definitely a lie. “Just—irritated. You got in the way of my goals at every turn.”

Her smile faded slightly. “Not in Ba Sing Se, I guess.”

Zuko clenched his fist tight—even the name of that forsaken city made him cringe. The flood of memories was nothing but looks of betrayal and disappointment, from people who actually cared about him, while he fell all over himself to believe Azula. His sister, who _always lies_.

He stood abruptly, and Katara looked up, brow furrowed. 

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“I’m sorry,” he said, turning away. “I just can’t…” 

Katara scrambled to stand. “I shouldn’t have brought it up.” 

He had walked closer to the edge of the water, watching the waves crash and then draw closer to his bare feet, which were sinking quickly in the sand.

“You were—so kind to me, Katara.”

She walked over to stand beside him, one hand holding the top of her arm. When a larger wave rushed towards them, only really enough water to reach their ankles, she flicked her wrist up so it flowed in a half circle around them before receding.

“I called you a terrible person.”

He turned to her, exasperated. “Then you said you’d heal me—that water from the Spirit Oasis was valuable and you offered it without hesitation.”

“That was naïve of me, I think,” she murmured. 

“Other than turning my back on my uncle, there’s no one else that I-,” He sighed and looked down. “-regret hurting more.”

She was quiet for a few moments, brow furrowed. Her hand dropped from her arm. “Listen, Zuko, I believe that you’ve chosen our side, for good. Or at least I hope-,”

“ _I have_.”

She finished, hesitant. “But it’s true that my forgiveness was given because I wanted to move forward, not because I understand what made you turn your back on us in the caves.”

Sometimes he did not understand, either. It was a fog of emotion, an intense desire to be loved and honored and valued in the ways he was taught, and full of false, stupid hope he could actually achieve those things.

“I wanted my father’s approval,” he finally said. “Azula knew that and she promised me I’d have his love, that I could return to my home and…”

Katara bit her lip in thought, then frowned. “Your father is a monster.”

“I know that—better than anyone.”

She lifted her head. “What does that mean?”

Katara had surely seen the evil Ozai was capable of, in every place she’d stepped foot on her journey with Aang, even in her own home. She knew Zuko hunted the Avatar to reverse his banishment—knew he had a scar, though he’d never said from where. He didn’t know how to describe it without feeling the intense pain of that moment and being ashamed that after he _still_ sought his father’s approval.

“He banished me and told me not to come back without the Avatar.”

“You told me already,” Katara said. “A long time ago, when you did nothing to _actually_ save me from those pirates.”

He buried his instinctive urge to apologize and looked away, jaw clenched. “He banished me because I disrespected him. I spoke out of turn at a war council meeting. Uncle told me not to say anything, but I…” He shook his head. “It was stupid of me. A general proposed sacrificing a whole unit of recruits for military expedience. I protested.”

“You were right to speak up,” Katara said immediately, firmly, because no doubt she would have done the same. 

Zuko cleared his throat. “My father did not agree. He, uh—he demanded I participate in an Agni Kai. He wanted me to fight _him_. I refused.”

She looked concerned, brows low over her blue eyes. “You were young, Zuko.”

He looked out at the water—she was standing on his left, scar in full view. He wanted to switch, to hide away, to hope the darkness around them concealed the ugliness that his father inflicted on him in the name of respect. 

“He burned my face when I wouldn’t,” Zuko eventually said, voice quiet. 

She leaned closer, as if she couldn’t hear him or didn’t believe him. “Your _father_?”

“Yes.”

Katara was looking at him—he couldn’t see her expression with the way his head was hung, dark hair falling past his ears. She felt pity for him, maybe, or thought he deserved it after everything he’d done.

“Have you told anyone this before?” she asked.

“People in the Fire Nation know. It was—he-,” Zuko sighed, wishing the memory was more distant and less painful. “He did it right there in the arena, everyone saw. But I’ve never told anyone else.”

Her hand brushed his elbow—he hardly felt it at first, until one arm looped through his and her other hand held that same arm tight, tethering them together, the top of her head and her wavy hair closest to his face. She and Aang, all of them, really, were far more affectionate than he was used to. Nice, even. He tried not to be so suspicious of it. Katara just felt sorry for him, he knew. 

“I’m sorry that happened to you, Zuko.”

“I-I’m not trying to make excuses,” he stammered. “I had a choice in Ba Sing Se no matter what my father did.”

“I know,” she said. 

“So I’m sorry for betraying you. I was your enemy and you showed me far more kindness than my father ever did.”

Katara squeezed his arm tight. “I forgive you, you know that.”

She loosened her grip and then released him, but still stood beside him. His head dropped, eyes on his feet.

“Like you said, you only wanted to move forward,” he murmured. “How could you believe that I’m a good person?” A heavy breath left him. “Sometimes I don’t.”

He did not know why he asked her that. As if he wanted to be placated, as if _she_ could tell him he was a good person when she had so little proof.

Another wave rolled in—Katara didn’t stop it, so it washed over their feet. He braced himself but the water was warm. Katara watched it with such interest, she obviously felt more of a connection to the ocean than him, especially at night like this.

He watched her watching the water, then looked down again lest he be caught staring. He was so impressed by her, he should say it, so she knew. Things were so focused on Aang all the time, how quickly the boy picked things up, how skilled he was. But she was powerful and unrelenting and righteous. They wouldn’t be here without her—he would have captured the Avatar and returned to the Fire Nation without her. 

“It was very brave of you to leave the Fire Nation like you did,” she eventually said. “Confronting your father. It was the right choice.”

“You think that makes me good?” he asked.

“I think you just need to keep making the right choices,” she said.

He hesitated, uncertain she would want to hear the truth of the matter. “I don’t always know how to do that,” he admitted. 

Katara did not seem angry at his honesty, which relieved him. “That’s what friends are for,” she replied.

He hadn’t really been bold enough to consider the two of them friends. She no longer hated him, maybe, but tolerating a person because they needed a firebending teacher wasn’t exactly friendship. He was…undeserving of Katara’s kindness in that respect, though when had he ever deserved her kindness, and when had that ever stopped her from extending it?

“Thank you, Katara.”

She pushed her hair behind her ear—he couldn’t tell if she was blushing in the darkness, maybe he’d given his thanks with too much intensity.

“If you’re going to rouse Aang at the crack of dawn for training, you should get some sleep.”

Zuko hesitated. Normally he would take his leave, but surely she’d come out here in the dead of night because something was troubling her.

“Are you alright?” he asked tentatively. “If you…came out here.”

She looked over at him for a moment before facing the water again, a concerned crease in her brow. “Aang was upset about the play. We had a—a fight, I guess.”

“Upset about the girl cast to play him?” Zuko asked.

Katara touched her hair again, rubbing it between her fingertips. “Among other things.”

Surely she meant Aang was upset about the _romantic_ components of the play. Zuko blanched at that—he should have left when she told him to get some rest, now he just wanted to fling himself into the ocean and be taken by the tides rather than talk about the stupid actors playing the two of them being in love. 

“You—you mean the stuff with us?” he said. “It didn’t—I wasn’t-,”

Katara waved her hand. “No, he didn’t like that the actress playing me—who was a hack, by the way—said he was like a brother to me.”

“It’s just a play, it’s not real,” Zuko said incredulously.

“ _I_ know that,” Katara said. “I think Aang was just—afraid it was true.”

“Is it?” Zuko asked, and she stiffened, which immediately made him wince. “I’m sorry—you don’t—please don’t answer that. Your relationship o-or—lack of-,” He stopped, groaning internally because he just needed to _shut up_. “It’s not my business.”

She gave him a slightly bemused look, which was better than the outright ridicule he deserved for his stammering, then crossed her arms.

“I can tell you what the play _really_ got wrong was me having any romantic feelings for you _at all_ in the caves.” 

“Likewise.”

Katara laughed, and he was afraid she was offended by how quickly he responded.

“Not that I—I didn’t _appreciate_ your kindness or that you—I mean, that you _are_ -,” He awkwardly cleared his throat. “Okay…looking.”

She covered her mouth to contain her laugh. “Wow, you must have just gotten all _kinds_ of girls in the Fire Nation.”

He was bright red and liable to burst into flames at any moment. “I hope sufficiently embarrassing me has made you feel better,” he said gruffly.

“It _has_ ,” she said with one last giggle.

He was not sure he could be a good sport for much longer—or he’d say something even _more_ stupid, so he crossed behind her, shaking his head. “I should go, before I mortify myself further.” 

She turned her head to watch him and smiled. “Goodnight.”

Zuko trailed through the sand back to the house, leaving Katara to study the waves in the darkness. He felt better, after talking to her, even though he’d re-lived a less than pleasant memory. She deserved— _needed_ —to know the truth, so their alliance wasn’t an uneasy one predicated on the need to train Aang. He wanted to be…friends despite that, which he probably did not deserve. But that did not mean he wasn’t very glad, with both their choices, for the first time in a long time. 

====

The camp of the Order of the White Lotus was quiet, warm, comfortable—just the way Katara liked to sleep, and yet as she laid in her bedroll she could not even find the strength to close her eyes and pretend she wasn’t restless and out of her mind. Aang was completely _gone_ , their strategy ripped to tatters despite Sozin’s comet being imminent—it took everything for her not to panic, much less sleep.

Toph, naturally, did not seem to be fretting about their inevitable doom, and let out a loud snore in the bedroll beside her before she rolled over, one small arm flinging sideways and smacking Katara in the face.

She made an annoyed sound that did not wake Toph—the girl slept like a rock, of which the irony was not wasted on Katara. She folded Toph’s arm back over her and then crawled out of her tent, no longer content to pretend to be asleep.

She’d be alone by the fire, she assumed, since the Order of the White Lotus skewed elderly and wasn’t exactly a night crowd, but Zuko was sitting cross-legged with his back to her.

Katara had not spoken to him since he went to visit his Uncle Iroh—they’d been in his tent for a while, which Katara took as a good sign, at least because it didn’t burst into flames at any point. She hadn’t had total confidence when she spoke to Zuko that his uncle would truly forgive him, but she knew Iroh loved him, and was wise, and if she could see that Zuko was changed, surely he could too.

She sat down beside him in front of the fire, which at this time of night was just a few small flames and smoldering ashes. He was fiddling with one of his shirts and was so focused he did not look at her as she leaned closer.

“What are you doing?”

“Trying to fix my shirt,” he replied, as he pushed a threaded needle through part of a tear on the collar with such force it went directly into his thumb.

He hissed in pain and shook his hand with a look of annoyance. Katara rolled her eyes and reached for the shirt.

“Let me-,”

Zuko pulled away, frowning. “I can do it,” he said defensively.

Katara sat back. “It’s too dark out here for you to fix it properly.”

His eyes flicked to the fire and with a wave of his hand the flames rose higher.

“Show-off,” she said.

She could have sworn she saw a smirk on his face in the better light, but he quickly looked back down. Katara watched him for a few more seconds and huffed at his poor technique.

“How about I show you what to do for a few stitches and you copy me?”

He paused, mulling, before he relented. “Fine.”

Katara accepted his tunic from him and laid it out over her knees. She inspected his first attempt; he had predictably done a terrible job.

She unraveled all his work and turned the shirt inside out—he only looked mildly offended. Katara doubled up the thread and showed him a few easy stitches, and how to hold the needle.

He patiently watched her, leaning somewhat close, and swatted his hair out of his eyes a few times so he could see better.

She was a quarter of the way through the tear when she looked up. “Are you sure I can’t just do it?”

“No, I want to learn,” he insisted and took the shirt into his lap. He stoked the fire again and brought the tear close to his face to see it better.

“Why do you want to learn?” Katara began. “It’s not like you’ll have to mend many shirts after this.”

He stopped and looked over at her. “Because we’ll be dead?”

“ _No_ , Zuko, geez,” she said with a half laugh. “I meant that I don’t think many Fire Lords do their own sewing.”

She saw a blush creep up the side of his face she could see. “Iroh will be Fire Lord,” he muttered.

“Won’t you be after him though?”

“Eventually, I guess,” he said, then resumed his sewing. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t learn—to do things for myself.”

Katara smiled slightly—no doubt it had been painful for him to subsist on the land alone in the Earth Kingdom, but clearly it had taught him some valuable lessons about being less of a bratty crown prince. Though he still wasn’t much of a sewer. 

His jaw was set tight as he tried to focus on his work. She could tell he was annoyed he didn’t quite have the hang of it.

“Why are you so good at this?” he eventually asked.

Katara’s legs were tired, so she stretched them out close to the fire and rested her palm flat behind him so she could see over his shoulder. “Someone had to keep Sokka’s clothes from completely falling apart,” she replied, then squinted slightly as he finished his first stitch. “Don’t pull so hard.”

He grumbled something under his breath, but did as he was told.

“How did it go with your uncle?” she asked, and she expected him to tell her to shut up and let him concentrate, but he answered.

“It went—it was good,” he said, lip turned up slightly. “I did not deserve to be forgiven so easily.”

“I told you it would be fine,” Katara replied and she nudged him gently, though not enough to disturb his work.

Zuko did not reply, too engrossed on a new stitch, that ended in him narrowly missing his thumb again with his needle. Since he didn’t actually prick himself she stayed silent.

“Why are you out here so late?” he began. “Are you okay?”

She hesitated then tried to smile. “I’m fine, don’t worry.”

Zuko paused and his eyes flicked back over his shoulder to her. “You don’t have to fix everyone _else’s_ problems and their shirts and not your own.”

“It’s useless to try to fix in this case,” she muttered, then met his gaze. “Unless you’ve suddenly had an epiphany about where Aang is.”

“No, but he’ll be back,” Zuko replied. “I’m surprised you don’t think so.”

Katara let her head loll back, eyes scanning the dark sky above them. “I do—I do. It’s just…the stakes are pretty high on this one.”

“Trust me, I know,” he said with a grim look.

She gave a short laugh. “That was not comforting _at all_.”

“Well I can’t guarantee we’ll win,” he said with a huff. Then he shoved his shirt in her face. “Is this okay?”

He’d stitched across the small tear, and it was passable. She unthreaded the needle and then cut the excess string on her teeth with practiced precision.

“Pretty good,” she said, as she handed it back to him.

Zuko put the wadded shirt on his lap, while she continued leaning on her palms. They sat in silence for a while, listening to the pop of slowly disintegrating logs on the fire. It was bizarre, honestly, to think that she sat in companionable silence with someone who she attacked on sight before.

He fiddled with the new stitches on his shirt. “Listen,” he said. “I don’t know if we’ll—win or survive or—anything, but I know we’re here because of you.”

“I’m not the Avatar,” Katara replied.

“As someone whose former occupation was hunting the Avatar, I can tell you that the only reason I didn’t succeed was because of you, not Aang,” Zuko said.

“It was a team effort,” she insisted.

“But you’re the strongest.”

She was not used to hearing such nice things about—her _skills_. Her personality, maybe, being nice or hopeful or handy, or being pretty. And even then, obviously their focus, everyone’s focus, was on Aang, the rest of them silent background players.

“That’s nice of you to say,” Katara eventually replied, staring down at her lap.

“I mean it,” he replied. “And I—wanted you to know. In case—well…”

 _We all die_. The sobering thought that was keeping her awake.

“We’ll be fine,” she said firmly, so she’d believe it too.

Zuko nodded once. “You’ve gotten this far, despite me.”

Katara looked at him, expecting another apology, but he was quiet, looking at the fire. She was sitting on the right side of him, so she couldn’t see his scar, just his dark hair and golden eyes—he was handsome, and she knew some people would think it was a shame that he was burned like he was, but she didn’t mind it. It was part of him, and hopefully meant he wouldn’t grow up to look or act like his father.

“And yet here you are now,” she said.

He glanced up, elbows rested on his knees. “I like it here.”

She wondered if he meant _with her_. That felt like a silly thought, even if she did like spending time with him.

So she just smiled.

“I like it here too.”


	3. Chapter 3

They took Zuko to the palace after Azula, defeated and still maniacal, was kept in her chains and dragged away. He had collapsed when his sister was out of sight, even with Katara’s healing. Somehow he still felt like he was burning up from the inside, a tight white pain in his chest. He was ushered into a room, though not his father’s chambers, thankfully—the whole time he heard snippets of Katara’s voice, could feel her hands, too, never far from him, and he feared she’d over-exert herself if she kept trying to heal him.

He completely passed out soon after. He did not know how long he was asleep, just that when he started awake, bolting upright, it was dimmer in his room and a fire was lit. He startled someone standing next to the bed, porcelain clattering, and when he looked up he spotted Katara putting a tray down beside him.

“Zuko-,”

“Have you heard about the others?” he demanded—he wanted to move, but she quickly sat down beside him, holding her arm out to stop him.

“They’re all okay,” Katara assured him. “Aang sent word they're coming here.”

Zuko leaned back, relieved, though his heart continued to hammer in his chest. He winced when his shoulders hit the pillow propping him up, still hurting, though not as much as before, and while he was unconscious he’d been wrapped in bandages and given a tunic that was open at the top.

“And Ozai?” he asked.

Katara dropped her arm. “Aang took his bending somehow, but he’s alive.”

Zuko frowned. “Aang should have killed him when he had the chance.”

He exhaled sharply after that—perhaps it was true progress that he wanted his father nothing but dead.

“I can’t say I disagree,” Katara admitted. “But the important thing is that it’s over.”

A different kind of pain, the panicked kind, tightened in his chest— _Ozai’s_ reign was over, maybe, and Azula defeated, but that meant his work would begin. Because Iroh refused to accept the mantle of Fire Lord, it fell to him, which was a bit terrifying. He’d hardly figured out who he was, and now he was expected to figure how to run an entire nation?

“Are you feeling okay?” Katara asked, when he did not speak.

He shook his head, not wanting to burden her on what was supposed to be a joyous occasion. “Yeah—yes,” he said hastily. “I feel—I’m mean, I’ll be okay.”

Katara gestured to the table beside them. “I made some tea, if you think that would help.”

He gave her a nod, and rather than standing, she twisted her torso to reach his cup.

“Not as good as Uncle Iroh’s, but it will have to do,” she said, as she handed it to him.

“Thanks,” he said.

She blew on her own tea and wrapped her hand all the way around it, probably to cool it down, but when she looked down at it, she frowned at the frozen bits now floating in the dark colored liquid.

“Shoot,” she muttered.

He reached out and grabbed the other side to warm it a little, though they were both tired, so for all he knew the tea would splatter in their faces from overheating.

It did not, thankfully, and he quickly lowered his hand, while she smiled at him. “I knew we kept you around for some reason,” she said.

Katara took a small sip and then put the cup aside when she noticed something on his bandages. She adjusted them slightly, and he resisted the urge to tell her to quit fussing over him, maybe because it wasn’t so bad.

“Did I win the Agni Kai?” she asked, as she sat back.

A bizarre question that she had clearly been ruminating on as he slept. “Uh, Azula certainly didn’t,” he replied, raising an eyebrow. 

“Did you?” she asked.

“I—guess not,” he said. “Azula cheated and you subdued her in the end.”

She grinned. “So do I get to be the next Fire Lord?”

“Oh you would enjoy that, would you?” he asked with a laugh, which hurt his chest but he concealed it because he didn’t want her to worry.

She reached up and patted the part of her hair that was pulled up. “That little crown would fit perfectly right here, I think.”

Zuko smiled—he almost wished she’d do it, if only to annoy his father. “As the victor of the Agni Kai, you could also _choose_ the next Fire Lord instead.”

“I see,” she said, resting her chin on her fist and surveying him. “I’ll have to consider my options carefully.”

He flushed red and looked down. “I wish Uncle Iroh would do it,” he muttered. 

Katara dropped her hand so it landed on his arm. “Oh, Zuko, I was only teasing—you should do it, you’re ready.”

He hated that he turned the conversation so serious, which was apparently all he was capable of doing. “I don’t want to be anything like my father,” he said. “I want to prove to you—to everyone that I’m different.”

“You have nothing to prove to me, I’ve said that before,” Katara insisted, then she hesitated, eyes on his bandages where a scar would remain no matter how good of a healer she was.

It had to be talked about, what he did. Katara would regale the others with the story. They would call it heroic, but it didn’t feel like it. Heroism was supposed to take careful thought, strength, determination. There had been no time for that, just him realizing Azula’s plan and flinging himself in front of Katara because—because he couldn’t stand the thought of her being hurt by the Fire Nation again. 

“Katara, I…”

She had her hands in her lap and squeezed them tight. “I would have died if you hadn’t jumped in front of me. _You_ could have died.”

“We’re both fine now,” he said.

Katara huffed. “You are not _fine_ —you were seriously injured.”

“Good thing you’re such a good healer, then,” he said.

She looked back down at his chest. “You’ll have a scar.”

“Would you believe I’m used to those by now?”

Katara gave him an annoyed look, which felt like nice payback considering all the other times she’d teased him, and was also an easier answer than trying to wrangle with the precise emotions that made him jump in front of a lightning bolt aimed for someone else.

Her face softened and she ran her fingers across her palm. “Zuko, really, why did you—why would you…” 

He shifted uncomfortably and cleared his throat. “You are a far better person than me, Katara. If anyone deserved to—to die in this fight, it was me.”

Her eyes snapped up to him and she frowned. “Don’t say that, Zuko!”

“You, Aang, Sokka, Toph—you’ve all worked so hard,” he said. “Against _me_ at times, by the way.”

“Not anymore,” she said.

“Yes, well-,” He stopped and sighed. “You had it right the whole time.”

Katara leaned forward slightly, hands still in her lap. “Zuko, you _are_ a good person.”

“I…” He swallowed roughly. “I just made the right choice this time.”

She met his gaze with a fragile smile. Her hand reached up, slowly, until her fingertips were pressed against his scar. He didn’t flinch, though his heart thudded in his chest loud enough that surely she could hear.

He didn’t know what the scar meant now, if it wasn’t the mark of a banished prince. That exile was the best thing to happen to him—it forced him outside the insular community of the Fire Nation and taught him that the honor and approval he so desperately sought were nothing but a means to control him. 

Katara had cold hands and touched him so gently, like in Ba Sing Se when he’d accepted her kindness and then threw it back in her face. Guilt solidified like a rock in his gut.

He grabbed her forearm, too suddenly based on the way her eyes widened. 

“I will never betray you again, Katara.”

“Oh,” she whispered—maybe she thought he was angry at first, he knew he was too intense sometimes. She then shook her head and gave a small smile. “I know, Zuko, of course.” 

He released her, he’d been holding too tight anyway, when the door at the end of the room opened. Katara leaned back and turned, as one of the palace attendants appeared.

“Excuse me, Master Katara,” the man said, bowing. “You told me to alert you when the Avatar arrived.”

Katara smiled. “Thank you,” she said, and he quickly disappeared.

“I want to go out with you,” Zuko said immediately when the door clicked shut.

She faced him. “Absolutely not, you’re in no condition.”

“Katara-,”

She reached out and pulled his bed covers further over him. “You wait here, I will bring the others,” she said. “You’re not the Fire Lord yet, I can still boss you around.”

Zuko crossed his arms. “As if you won’t boss me around after anyway.”

“Prince Zuko, I would _never_ ,” she replied, feigning offense before breaking into a grin, then she gave his covers one last pat before standing.

Katara hurried out the door after that, eager to see Aang and her brother, obviously, while Zuko considered disobeying her orders and joining them. He tested turning and putting one foot on the ground—pain shot up his stomach and chest when he did, and he quickly collapsed back with a pained hiss.

Maybe he was so desperate to join them because he did want to sit there alone, awake. Contemplating what happened now that Azula and his father were imprisoned, leaving him to rule the entirety of the Fire Nation. And not just rule it, change its entire course.

Even if he didn’t feel equipped, he didn’t have a choice. This was his destiny, crafted for him thanks to Iroh’s forgiveness and the forgiveness of Katara and the others. He only hoped he would not let them down. 

====

It was a whirlwind after Ozai's capture—throngs of people celebrating in the streets: the end of the war, Zuko’s coronation. Katara was relieved, elated. _Tired_. She slept soundly at night, in a real bed, but sometimes that was not comfort enough, and in the moments before she closed her eyes, she’d lay, staring at the ceiling, wondering _now what_.

 _Now what_ was easy for Sokka. He was desperate to return home to reunite with their father—perhaps it was uncertain how he and Suki would maintain their relationship because of the distance, but Sokka would be the next chief of their tribe, no question, and he needed to be ready for that.

It was easy for Zuko, in a sense. _Fire Lord_ was a lifelong occupation, and a taxing one. He could pour all his energy into repairing the damage done by his father, making the Fire Nation better. It was a calling that _made sense_.

Aang, too, could spend a lifetime resurrecting the culture of the Air Nomads, separate from his preordained destiny as the Avatar. Toph had _invented an entirely new kind of earthbending_ that needed to be taught to others, certainly as more and more mechanical marvels made their way into the world. 

Katara, though, felt…adrift. Her future was set, in some ways. She’d kissed Aang when he returned from fighting Ozai, at the end of it all, and that meant she would continue on beside him. She loved him, certainly, and had enjoyed being with him in their travels. Surely _more_ would be just as good. Still, that did not give her a purpose, like the others.

These were not the conversations anyone celebrating the end of a century-long war wanted to have. People were happy to be _alive_ and that was enough.

She told herself that it was enough for her, too. That she deserved a break and did not need to be so restless.

They spent a few extra weeks in the Fire Nation after the coronation, enjoying the perks of the palace, before it was time to depart. Sokka and Suki to the South Pole, Toph back to the Earth Kingdom, at least to be with her parents for a time to attempt to reconcile before she devoted her efforts to teaching metalbending, and Aang off to the Eastern Air Temple.

Her friends did not have the luxury of being able to ride on Appa, so their boats left early in the morning for the South Pole and Goaling. It was hardest to let go of Sokka, even though he was going home. She’d taken care of him for so long, and been at his side for so long, just the two of them, it was hard to imagine not rolling her eyes at his sarcasm or listening to his snoring at night.

Still, he sailed off, waving to her until he was just a speck on the horizon, and she filled the hole in her heart with a smile and hasty nod when Aang asked her if she was okay.

Later that day, she and Aang prepared Appa to leave straight from the courtyard of the palace. She didn’t have much to pack, not after a year of running and fighting. When she left the room allocated to her and started for the gardens, she spotted Zuko coming from the other direction, clad in his official and imposing _Fire Lord_ uniform. They were handsomely made clothes, but she couldn’t help but think how unfamiliar he looked in them.

She stopped in front of him and smiled. “Fire Lord Zuko.”

He frowned slightly. “That was your one free pass,” he said. “It’s Zuko only from now on.”

She feigned surprise as they crossed into the garden. “You would encourage such familiarity with a Water Tribe _peasant_?”

“Katara,” he said exasperatedly.

She laughed. “You’re too serious sometimes, you know.”

“All the time, actually.”

Katara gave a snort before she reached out and looped her arm through his. Appa was waiting at the end of the path, and then Aang appeared from behind his massive, furry body. He waved excitedly when he spotted them. 

“It’ll be weird, all of us being apart,” Katara remarked. 

“Have you decided where you’ll go?” he asked. 

“Yes, I—Aang and I are going to the Eastern Air Temple for now.”

She had not told Zuko about her new relationship, but clearly he suspected something because he gave her a warm smile.

“I’m happy for you both,” he said. 

_I wish I was happier_ _about it_.

Katara buried that thought, drowned it, wished she was a firebender so she could reduce it to ash. She _was_ happy, she _loved_ Aang, and he would never hurt her. Hesitation was natural in times of change.

She squeezed his arm. “We’ll miss you,” she said. “I worry, you know-,”

“About me?” he interjected incredulously. 

“It’s just—a lot,” she said. “This Fire Lord business.”

“You think so?”

Katara huffed and gave him a little shove with her elbow, but she was still holding onto him so he didn’t go far. “And _you_ don’t ask for help enough.”

“Have you been talking to Uncle Iroh?” he asked.

Iroh had not yet left, but would soon depart to re-open the Jasmine Dragon, and in that time Katara had indeed discussed Zuko a few times. Iroh’s pride and devotion to him was evident every time they talked.

“You’re his favorite topic.”

“ _Tea_ is his favorite topic.”

Katara chuckled. “Tied for first, then.”

“You don’t need to worry,” Zuko said and placed his hand briefly over hers, the one secured tight to his arm. It was the first and only time he had ever initiated any sort of—physical contact. Maybe he would miss them after all, despite his aversion to admitting it. 

“You will write, won’t you?” she asked. “Toph promises she’ll write.”

“She’s blind, Katara.”

“So you have no excuse,” she replied brightly. 

“I will,” he assured her, and they both stopped when they reached Appa.

“I think we’re ready to go!” Aang announced, having heaved their last bag into the saddle. He slid to the ground next to them with his characteristic gracefulness. 

“Thanks, Aang,” Katara replied with a smile. 

Aang held both arms out. “Group hug?” 

“We did one earlier,” Zuko said immediately, and they had, a long one, that Zuko had squirmed out of complaining that he had meetings to attend.

Aang threw his arms around Zuko anyway, and Katara released him, so he could glare at her and pat Aang on the top of his head. 

Aang untangled himself quickly and skipped backwards and then up onto Appa’s head. 

“Come on, Momo!” he called, and the lemur’s head popped out of a nearby tree, paws sticky from fruit. He chittered loudly and then leapt over onto Appa’s saddle.

Katara turned to Zuko and took his hand—he didn’t flinch and pull back, like she expected. “Well, I said this to Sokka, too,” she began. “It’s not goodbye. We’ll see each other soon.”

She squeezed his hand, while he looked down at it, but she frowned slightly when he didn’t respond.

“Zuko?”

He quickly released her and cleared his throat. “Have a safe journey, alright?”

Zuko stepped back, and she did not pursue him—it did occur to her that things were in some ways profoundly different between them, after what he did in the Agni Kai.

He insisted that he was good now, changed, and she believed him, but being willing to die for her was something entirely different. Even good people were not expected to thrust themselves into mortal danger on behalf of another person, even a friend. That was an act saved for—for tremendously selfless and brave people. Which is category she never would have put Zuko in. Aang, maybe, her brother, for the right person, but not the _Fire Lord_ , saving a Water Tribe peasant no less.

When she’d thought about it more, she told herself he’d done it to prove something—the change in the course of his life. He would have done it for anyone.

“Goodbye, Zuko,” she said with a smile.

He raised his eyes to her, expression inscrutable. “Goodbye, Katara.”

Aang reached out a hand to her and helped her up onto Appa. She looked back down and gave Zuko a small wave, which he returned with a nod, before Appa pushed himself off the ground, high into the air over the palace walls. Katara looked back once, saw him standing there, red and black robes against the green grass.

She quickly looked ahead and tried not to be sad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter covering the events from the show so now I get to break all the rules :)
> 
> Thanks of course to everyone who has read and commented so far, know that it is always appreciated!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI these new chapters will skip forward in time occasionally!

Katara wasn’t a flyer.

It had been fun to try at the Northern Air Temple, to feel the wind in her hair, but she didn’t crave the air when she was on the ground, and she certainly wasn’t a natural.

That was not the prevailing opinion among Aang and the members of his fan club—or _Air Acolytes_ , as they called themselves now. They all eagerly took to the air, as much as they could without being actual benders, and listened with rapt attention as Aang trained them in the ways of the Air Nomads in between his peace-making visits to the other nations.

It was all very exciting for him, and he deserved to be lauded, he did, because he was a kind and wonderful person. A person who—who Katara was not really all that in love with. 

As a friend, of course, she adored him. Loved his boundless energy, his positive spirit, but the romantic feelings that gushed out of him at every turn had never really been reciprocated by her with such fervor.

She’d had time to teach herself to return his feelings because he was infatuated with her from the _second_ he laid eyes on her, which was endearing, until he was restless with her indecision. Could not understand how their strong friendship did not mean that surely they could be _more_.

Katara did not understand it either. But she was young, she knew nothing of love. Infatuation, sure, because she had felt such an attraction to Jet, but love eluded her, what it was supposed to feel like.

Because it made sense on paper, because Aang was good and kind and devoted, she let little things happen. It was easier than jeopardizing their friendship while so much was at stake, and then afterwards, she knew he would be good to her, so she assumed she’d fall for him eventually, with him feeling the way he did about her.

She did not.

It was worse, even, after the war. They’d had a common goal before, but Katara could not invest herself into Aang’s new aspirations as fervently as he did because they were _his_. She was his quiet support in the background, keeping things running smoothly at camp, while he dreamed big and pursued his destiny. But she was fifteen and _having a boyfriend_ , even if it was the Avatar, could not be her destiny.

That did not mean Aang neglected her by any means. He was still doting and earnest and soon after they left the Fire Nation, he told her that he loved her. The panic set in then, and only grew, over an entire year.

Worse still, in addition to her romantic feelings being tepid at best, she wasn’t happy where she was. She wanted to be _home_. She’d left quickly after finding Aang, so suddenly—found a boy in an iceberg and next thing she knew she was on a sky bison heading for the North Pole.

Aang of course was willing to accommodate her—do anything for her. Go to the South Pole for a _visit_ , he said. Katara wanted more. She wanted a long stay, she wanted to be on the frontline of her home being transformed from tents and igloos into an anchored and flourishing society that wasn’t just a carbon copy of the North Pole. Yes, Sokka would be chief someday, and her father was still young, but there was so much to do, and she wanted to leave her mark.

But it was a hard choice because they didn’t really fight. They disagreed about politics sometimes, though not often, but otherwise co-existed blithely beside one another. She didn’t know if that was good or if it just meant that both of them were capitulating too much, not passionate enough.

The most gutting, what truly held her back for _months_ from ending things, was that he thought everything was fine, and she hated to shatter that illusion. Their whole relationship was her putting her own feelings aside for his sake or making excuses for her hesitation—she kept doing that, putting him before her, over and over, like a _mother_ , not a girlfriend.

It had to come to an end, sooner rather than later. Things would only get intense and complicated the older they got, and even now, the permanence of it, the serious commitment, wasn't comforting. It was suffocating and disappointing.

As badly as the truth wanted to burst out of her, like water through a collapsing dam, she knew it would require calm and careful thought. After ten months of consternation, she could wait no longer and packed her bags while he was out, as insurance against her hesitation.

She steeled herself once he came into her room, joyful after an afternoon of teaching his acolytes and excited to recount his day. She did not let him and said the words that had run through her head a thousand times.

“Aang, it’s time for me to go home, to the South Pole,” she said. “A-Alone.” 

He looked confused—she knew he would be. “Alone?” he began, stepping closer and reaching for her arm. He ran his fingers down to her wrist, but she did not move. “Why can’t I come?”

“Because—because I-,” She swallowed, suddenly wishing she’d written him a note and fled no matter how awful it would be. “Aang, our relationship isn’t—it’s not working.”

He blinked with those big, innocent eyes. “Not working?" he said. "I—I can fix it, Katara. Just tell me what’s wrong.”

“You haven’t done anything wrong,” she insisted. “And it’s not something that can be fixed.”

“ _Anything_ can be fixed.”

Katara reached up and rubbed her brow. “Aang, I do care for you, you have been wonderful to me, but I am not _in_ this enough for…”

“What—what are you saying?” he asked, voice smaller.

“That I want to go to the South Pole. I want us to be—apart. For good.”

He was quiet, gaze down and searching the floor like there was some answer there. “But—but I love you. _You_ said you loved me.”

She sighed. “I’m very sorry. I wish it were different.”

“It _can_ be different,” he insisted. “I know we could work, if you’d just try.”

“I have tried,” she snapped, then felt guilty, so she paused, jaw clenched tight. “This…isn’t a negotiation.”

“You can’t expect me to not fight for you,” Aang said, eyes rising. “We’re _soulmates_.”

“You’re thirteen, Aang!”

He threw his hand out. “I’m the _Avatar_. I’ve been to war. So have you.”

“That doesn’t make us soulmates,” she replied. “It doesn’t mean everything is supposed to make sense after.”

His chin began to tremble, and she looked away. “I don’t want you to go,” he said.

“I’m—very sorry,” she whispered.

Aang stepped forward. “If you're not happy, we can go anywhere,” he began. “I will do anything-,”

“You have not done anything _wrong_ ,” she said again, harsher this time, but also trying to keep her voice from wavering. “That is not what I’m saying at all. This is my choice, and it’s—it’s because of me.”

“Katara-,”

Her bag was to the side of her, and she grabbed it, glad it was already all put together. Her resolve was breaking because she couldn’t articulate her dissatisfaction no matter how long she’d thought about it, and he didn’t deserve to be so heart-broken. She did like him, they were friends, maybe if she just gave herself a _little_ longer…

She could not let those thoughts invade, and they would, if she tarried.

“I have to go,” she said. “I am—so, so sorry, Aang.”

He reached out for her, but didn’t push, which she appreciated, because she could not stand here much longer and keep it together.

With her bag over her shoulder and tears in her eyes, she slipped out of the room and into the darkness.

====

The Earth Kingdom felt strongly that the meeting commemorating the first anniversary of the end of the Hundred Year War could not take place in the Fire Nation. It was petty, and political, especially since Omashu was their proposed location for the summit—the only place the Earth Kingdom had managed to successfully reclaim on the Day of the Black Sun, as if _that_ ended the war and not Aang.

Zuko had conceded the point—he had said in his letters there was enough _actual_ conflict between the two nations that this did not need to be dragged out further, especially since Aang supported the move so he could go see Bumi. No doubt the war mongers in the Fire Nation found Zuko too accommodating, a capitulator, which Katara knew did not make his job easy.

When the time for the summit came, the Southern Water Tribe ship docked at a harbor along the coast nearest to Omashu with a little help from Katara—uncooperative tides were nothing a waterbender couldn’t fix. Zuko and Suki had arrived the previous day from the Fire Nation and Kyoshi Island, respectively, and Katara could see his ship docked further down the harbor. It was much bigger than theirs, but not too ostentatious compared to what Azula used to sail around in.

Aang was flying on Appa from the nearest Air Temple, probably landing that afternoon. They had not spoken in two months, when Katara left for the South Pole, though he wrote her. Long, heart-breaking letters that she could not find the strength to respond to because all she could think was _I’m sorry_. Things were permanent on her end, she knew, but she dreaded that Aang likely wanted to rehash their relationship status further. He deserved to understand, but she was afraid her resolve would not be as strong as before considering how kind and accommodating he would be. 

Sokka was oblivious to the whole matter, especially once they were anchored in the harbor. He had been glued to the edge of the ship, eyes frantically searching through the crowds of people on the dock.

He was looking for Suki, obviously, and when he spotted her, he flew down the gangplank, almost tripping over the raised ridges as he did. Suki, to her credit, hurried to him just as quickly, leaving Zuko in her dust.

“Sokka!”

They collapsed into one another’s arms, and Katara scooted around them just as the kissing started. Zuko reached her once she did, hair slightly longer, wearing a dark cloak and none of his regalia, probably to keep a low profile.

He smiled when he saw her. “Hi,” he said, then his eyes flicked over to Sokka, brow arching sharply. “Oh wow that is-,”

Katara turned slightly to see her brother still quite enthusiastically greeting Suki. She wrinkled her nose—Sokka used to complain about any of Aang’s affection towards her and here he was trying to practically eat Suki’s face. “It’s not like we’re in the middle of a public harbor or anything.”

“Wasn’t he on Kyoshi Island a month ago?” Zuko began incredulously. “It hasn’t even been that long.”

“Too long for true love, I guess.”

Zuko shook his head slightly. “They’re going to pass out if they don’t take a breath soon.” 

Katara laughed. “I missed you, Zuko.”

He flushed red and accepted her hug when she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. He squeezed her tight and even pulled her off the ground a few inches briefly, despite her not being all that short—he’d never done that before, hugged her enthusiastically like that. She was touched if it meant he really missed her. She always worried about him, more than the others because he was all alone in the Fire Nation, with a tremendous task before him. He’d never admit that things were hard, though.

She released him, just as Suki and Sokka finally came up for air.

“Zuko!” Sokka said, and he grinned when Zuko gave him a critical look. “Oh, I’m sorry buddy, did you want a kiss too?”

“Tempting, but I’ll pass.” 

Katara laughed as she reached out to hug Suki and then released her to let her greet Zuko. They headed down the dock together shortly after, Sokka of course quick to gather Suki back up with his arm around her, leaving Katara to trail behind with Zuko.

“Your letters aren’t nearly detailed enough, you know,” Katara remarked, squeezing in somewhat close to him to get around the crowds at the dock.

Zuko looked over at her. “I said I’d write, and now I’m not writing _enough_?”

“Somehow I find _everything’s fine_ not nearly enough of a description for your attempts to change pretty much everything about Fire Nation politics,” she replied.

“It’s dull,” he said. “Busy. Too much arguing, and it’s difficult to be taken seriously when everyone thinks I’m too young.”

“I’ve been hearing good things,” Katara replied. “And you’re not too young.”

Zuko gave her a small smile. “How have you been?”

She put her hand over her hair to keep it from blowing too much in the wind. For all her playful jabs about his letters being too short, she had not exactly disclosed everything going on in her life. Mainly that she had broken up with Aang, though maybe he heard from someone else.

That made her not particularly great. She was glad to be home in the South Pole, but she did miss Aang, felt lonely sometimes, wished they could go back to when they were all together, but maybe just not trying to save the world from total destruction. This reunion could have been that; instead it was just going to be an awkward exercise in avoiding Aang. It irritated her sometimes, that this romance and her inability to just accept it and be happy with Aang, was the first domino toppling all the other good she'd gained during the war, her other friendships. Some days she thought they should have never been together at all. Or that she should have waited, instead of capitulating to his earnest attentions just because she wanted closure and didn't want him to be sad after saving the world. 

Still, she gave Zuko a reassuring smile. “I’ve been good—great,” she said. “Missed you all, of course, though.”

They continued walking, out of the harbor where they would have to take ostrich horses further inland and across the bridge to Omashu. Katara nudged him.

“This is where _you_ say that you’ve missed us too.”

“I think that’s a given,” he said. “I don’t know why it has to be spoken out loud.”

Katara gave a short laugh. “People like to hear nice things,” she said. “Which is advice you should undertake as Fire Lord too, you know.”

“I don’t think Fire Lords of the past paid many compliments,” he replied.

She raised an eyebrow. “They’re not very good role models, as I’m sure you’re aware.”

They had reached their transport to the city and Zuko stopped to face her. “I missed you,” he said. “Which, again, should be plainly obvious and go without saying.”

Katara grabbed the crook of his elbows, which were tucked in his cloak. “How about from now on you promise to say things even when you think they’re plainly obvious?”

His lip curled up slightly. “You’re still very bossy, even though I’m Fire Lord.”

“See that’s an example of something that should have been obvious,” Katara replied. 

Sokka appeared behind Zuko and put his hand on his shoulder with a sheepish look. “Hey, Suki and I are going to—uh, ride ahead to—I mean, we just want to-,”

“I get it, please don’t finish that sentence,” Katara said, raising her hand. 

Sokka gave her a thumbs up and then hurried with Suki to the nearest ostrich horse and then down the road. Zuko furrowed his brow.

“Are they…?”

“Yep,” Katara said. “And also are not _nearly_ as subtle as they think.” 

“Or really subtle at all,” Zuko muttered.

She laughed at that, and then hopped up onto the ostrich horse left behind by her brother. “You should be safe from them if you avoid barging into their rooms.”

He grabbed the reins of the remaining ostrich horse beside her. “Trust me, I’ve already made that mistake before.”

Katara shuddered at the thought, but still smiled. “I’m really glad you’re here,” she said, and she was. Of course it was good to have Sokka for company in the South Pole, and her father and Gran Gran, but she missed all of them being together. And since now them being together meant she had to be around Aang, it was frankly best to just be with him.

Zuko spoke as he was climbing onto his ostrich horse. “No doubt the Fire Lord’s absence from this would have been noticed,” he remarked. 

He paused when he was upright and looked over at her. “But, also, personally, of course I’m-,” He cleared his throat. “-happy that you—we’re together. _Here_. In Omashu, I mean.”

She tugged the reins, still grinning, and her ostrich horse started down the road. “You know if this Fire Lord thing doesn’t work out, you could always write poetry.”

“We can’t all have a way with words like you,” he replied.

A charming thought but clearly not applicable to her, given how she’d floundered in explaining her departure to Aang. He was heartbroken, which maybe she couldn’t help, but if she could have articulated her feelings better, maybe he’d at least understand. Move on faster, so she could enjoy these reunions instead of agonizing over the awkwardness and her shame that she fell into a relationship with him and then fled in a little less than a year.

Her eyes flicked over to Zuko, riding along beside her—she found herself suddenly desperate to seek out his comfort and assurance. Not that Sokka hadn’t told her that he wanted her to be happy, when she first arrived and told him the news, but she knew her brother couldn’t really understand why things fell apart. She felt too much guilt to tell the whole story, and sometimes it felt like he put her on the same pedestal as Aang despite their bickering, or couldn’t believe what his little sister was capable of.

She wrung her reins in her hands, wanting the words to burst out of her, but they rode the rest of the way to Omashu in silence. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to everyone that has read or commented so far :)
> 
> I hope to keep updating regularly, but my job can be a nightmare sometimes that really sucks up my free time. Everyone’s kindness has kept me motivated!


	5. Chapter 5

There was plenty to celebrate and do and talk about in Omashu, but not enough that Katara could completely avoid Aang. Frankly she almost craved a conversation with him, if only based on the foolish hope that it would allow them to put things behind them and be friends again. That wouldn’t happen, she knew, it would be awkward for a long time, which is what made her feel so awful about her choice. Sometimes it felt selfish.

She did not see Aang the first day he landed in the city with Appa—obviously there was tremendous fanfare for his arrival, being the hero he was. Entire fan clubs devoted to him had sprung up across the Earth Kingdom and clamored to catch a glimpse of him, which she hoped did not go to his head like it used to. So instead she met Toph at the gates of the city, whose journey was shortest and yet she was somehow the last to arrive.

The next day, however, a meeting was inevitable, no matter how much Katara dreaded it. In fact when she left her room in the morning, he was there. He’d likely been up early to meditate but no doubt stayed close to intercept her, in a breezeway overlooking one of the gardens of Bumi’s royal palace.

He had grown since the end of the war, maybe even since she last saw him, and soon he’d probably be as tall as Zuko or Sokka. He looked nervous, brow wrinkled, but smiled broadly upon seeing her.

“Hi, Katara,” he said. “It’s really good to see you.”

She gave a weak smile—though her polite façade was fading in the awkwardness. “It’s—good to see you too.”

Aang hesitated, then stepped closer. Spirits, he was so _earnest_ and _open_. This is why she hated letting him down. “I know it’s a busy time, and I want to give you space, but—but I’d really love to talk. You never answered my letters.”

_Talk_. They’d already talked ad nauseam about him, her, their relationship, what he was doing wrong, which was _nothing_. And it’s not like he _just_ wanted to understand, he wanted her _back_. His enthusiasm was relentless, and when it was directed at something she didn’t want, it was slightly less endearing than usual.

She was not ready to have this discussion with him again, so she nervously pawed at her hair and looked over his head, to the front of the gardens, where she spotted a dark cloak trimmed in red walking out to the stables. Zuko. Who surely needed her help with something.

“M-Maybe later, okay?” Katara said to Aang, as she took a few steps back and then turned sideways for the path leading outside.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“I, uh—Zuko asked for my help with something,” Katara said, pausing to give him a guilty look. “I’m sorry, Aang, I should go.”

Aang did not follow her, and she hurried away, maybe feeling worse than if she had just talked to him, but she did not want to re-tread the feelings that caused guilty thoughts to swirl whenever she saw him. She reached the stables, ostrich horses squawking, and spotted Zuko leading one out.

He started when he saw her, brow furrowed. “Katara?”

“Where are you going?” she asked, stopping in front of him.

He cleared his throat. “Nowhere.”

“You’re taking an ostrich horse…nowhere?”

“Nowhere _alone_ ,” he said and without further preamble jumped onto the saddle of his mount.

Katara did not understand why he was being so evasive. She frowned. “So you—the _Fire Lord_ —are just going to gallivant off to who knows where for who knows how long?”

“Yes.”

She made an exasperated sound. “Zuko-,”

Before she could finish, he trotted off, which deepened her frown. It occurred to her he could be doing something embarrassing since he was so reticent to talk about it. Or nefarious, possibly, though that seemed an unkind assumption.

Either way, she could not very well turn back on her heel and return to where Aang was still sulking, so once Zuko was out of sight she wrangled an ostrich horse and followed his tracks out of Omashu.

She had to give him a pretty long lead, since there wasn’t exactly anywhere to hide on the long, narrow bridge leading out of the city. Once over it, he disappeared into the surrounding forest surprisingly far—as she trailed behind him she could not even begin to fathom what he was doing. Did he have Earth Kingdom spies he was meeting? Was there a girl waiting for some elicit dalliance? Katara probably shouldn’t have followed him if _that_ was the case.

Well into the forest, at least two hours from the city, Zuko came across a modest house. He dismounted his ostrich horse outside the small stable and then walked through the gate to the door. He knocked and stepped inside when a woman answered.

He was gone for maybe twenty minutes, while Katara waited in a cluster of trees, still quite confused about what he was doing in the middle of the forest of Omashu, meeting what appeared to be strangers from the Earth Kingdom. And why he was being so secretive about it.

She was frankly so confused by the whole matter that she didn’t notice him emerge from the house, facing the road, spotting her because Water Tribe blue didn’t blend well in a forest. She considered tugging the reins of her ostrich horse and disappearing back into the trees when their eyes met, but that was not much of a solution given the annoyed look on his face.

He walked through the gate and straight over to her, scowling.

Katara quickly dismounted from her ostrich horse but kept hold of its reins. “Hi there, Zuko-,”

“I was quite clear about wanting to be _alone_ ,” he snapped.

He had such a temper when he was embarrassed. Though technically she shouldn’t have followed him, should have respected his privacy, so maybe he had reason to be angry.

“It’s not safe for you to go off like this,” Katara insisted. 

Zuko gave a sharp scoff. “I can handle myself.” 

She gestured over to the house. “What were you doing in there?”

“Nothing,” he said, arms now crossed.

“And you’re being so evasive because…?” 

“Because you shouldn’t stick your nose in my business,” he shot back.

She’d been accused of that before, but it still stung, especially since she’d already effectively destroyed one of her other close friendships, and this one didn’t need to be added to the list. Or at least she thought the two of them were close, after everything they’d been through.

“I was just trying to help,” she said.

He was quiet for a moment before he stepped back further onto the road. “I don’t need it, Katara,” he said. “We should get going before it gets dark.”

Katara frowned—he could be so stubborn sometimes, but she didn’t want to push him. Even being here and not talking about anything still accomplished her purpose of being outside Omashu and avoiding Aang.

She led her ostrich horse from the trees to the middle of the road, while Zuko led his in the same direction. He was holding his reins so tight his knuckles were white.

As soon as she circled her saddle, one hand on it to hoist herself up, she heard him sigh.

“I—I’m sorry, Katara.”

She peeked over her ostrich horse, and seeing his forlorn expression, walked over to him.

“I should be apologizing,” she said. “I shouldn’t have followed you. I was just…” _Looking for any reason to avoid my ex-boyfriend, who you don’t even know about and is your dear friend._

“There was no reason for me to be so evasive,” Zuko said. “I’m not doing anything nefarious, I promise.”

“I never suspected that,” Katara insisted hastily.

He fiddled with the reins in his hands, eyes downcast. “It’s…silly. Uncle and I were traveling here after what happened in the North Pole, and I—did something I regret.”

Katara looked over at him, but he did not meet her gaze.

“I remember,” she said. “We saw you in the desert.”

His jaw was tight before he spoke again. “Before then, when—when Uncle and I were really struggling, a girl named Song and her mother showed us…great kindness by feeding us and healing Iroh when he was poisoned.”

“Poisoned?” Katara began incredulously.

“He thought they were tea leaves.”

She laughed, but that did not wring a smile out of him. Instead he just reached up and rubbed the back of his neck. 

“To repay their kindness I stole their ostrich horse.”

Katara did not know why he was torturing himself over something like that—it was misguided, obviously, to take advantage of another’s kindness like that, but it wasn’t exactly a surprise, given the other choices he’d made around that time.

“Why did you do it?” she asked. 

“I was a spoiled asshole?” he said, tone disgusted.

“You had a reason, Zuko,” she replied.

He frowned. “Not a good one. I was…completely spiraling. I’d given up hope of ever regaining my honor after my sister came to take us prisoner, and I just—didn’t care anymore.”

Katara looked back over her shoulder to the house. “So you came back to see them?”

“I—I said I was sorry and gave them money,” he murmured. “It doesn’t make it better, I just—can’t stand they showed such kindness and I took advantage of it.”

She shook her head. “You shouldn’t be ashamed to tell me this, Zuko.”

“I’m just tired of all the bad choices,” he said. “While the rest of you are so perfect and-,”

Katara stiffened—she was so tired of being treated like some naive goody-goody. “I am not _perfect_ ,” she countered, voice sharp. “I’m just a human being.”

Zuko lifted his head, brow furrowed. “Are you alright?” 

She was now the evasive one, shoulders tense. Honestly she and Zuko had never really spoken about her relationship during the war, except in passing, and it never came up in their letters after. She assumed Zuko had no interest in discussing such things, and just enough had been said—by _other_ people, that bounty hunter, the stupid Ember Island Players that made it…risky to bring romantic entanglement too far into their conversations. She didn’t think she could confide in him anyway, given how close he and Aang were. 

“Aang and I broke up,” she finally said. 

He was quiet for a few seconds before he replied. “I’m sorry.”

Katara huffed and looked up. “Actually, I _dumped_ Aang, to be precise. Two months ago, and he was completely devastated.”

“I’m sure you had your reasons,” he said. 

“Not that anyone understands,” she muttered. “They all think I’m a monster for doing it—especially his stupid fan club. That I would abandon the Avatar.”

He gave her a critical look. “Your happiness matters just as much as his.”

“Yes, well, I—I wasn’t happy at all,” she admitted. 

“Why?” he asked.

She pursed her lips, eyes sliding over to him. “You really want to know?”

Zuko rubbed the back of his neck. “I mean—if you…need someone to talk to,” he began. “I won’t turn around and tell Aang anything, if that’s what you think.”

She lifted her hand to her hair and pushed it over one shoulder, fingers running down over the ends. “I loved Aang,” she said. “Just…not in the way he wanted, after the war ended.”

“But you were together then, I thought.” 

Katara felt shame now, deeply, crawling up her spine, crushing her and forcing her shoulders to slump. “You have to understand, Aang was so good and kind, and he cared so deeply for me that I thought—I’d _have_ to fall for him eventually.”

“But you didn’t,” he said. 

Tears pricked her eyes, but she held them back. She couldn’t remember if she’d ever cried in front of Zuko. Maybe after everything with Yon Rha, but he’d walked up and then away to give her space that day, or because he couldn’t handle those kinds of emotions. After the Agni Kai, too, though he’d been weak and possibly too delirious to remember.

“It was wrong and stupid of me. I should have been honest.”

“Why weren’t you?” Zuko asked.

“I didn’t know what I wanted,” she murmured. 

He cleared his throat. “It sounds like you did, you just felt bad about it.”

Katara rubbed her face with both hands. “He—he doesn’t deserve to be hurt, after everything that happened.”

“You don’t deserve to be miserable,” he replied, quickly and with conviction, which—felt nice, seeing as in any spare moment lately she had felt nothing but guilt for the way she made Aang feel.

“I—I’m not miserable,” she insisted. “I did want it. It would have been nice— _he’s_ nice.”

“It’s okay to want a little more than nice,” he said. 

Katara exhaled sharply. “That’s the problem, he really was a wonderful boyfriend, but-,” She hesitated, then pursed her lips. “It’s just all a lie, who he sees me as.”

His brow arched in. “You’re great, Katara-,”

“I don’t want to be put on a pedestal,” she interjected, frowning.

“I understand,” Zuko said. “I mean—not that _I_ have that problem, I just-,”

She threw her hand out. “You’ve seen me struggle, Zuko. You know it’s not always easy for me to—to be the sanctimonious good-goody everything thinks I am.”

“You didn’t kill Yon Rha.”

“I almost did,” she whispered hoarsely. “I know you were there, but you have _no idea_ …” She clenched her fist because her hand was shaking. “Not to mention the bloodbending.”

Zuko stepped closer. “I can’t tell you whether or not Aang puts you on a pedestal, or if he really understands who you are,” he said. “But you shouldn’t be ashamed or guilty if you’re not that person.”

“I know,” she replied hastily. “And I try not to, but…it was just suffocating, you know.”

“I can imagine.”

Katara had her arm across her stomach and raised her other to her face, fingers rested against her cheek. “If I was just better, I wouldn’t-,” Her voice wavered and she looked down. “Aang’s hardly my friend anymore, and I don’t want this to hurt our—our group…”

She preemptively wiped her eyes because they were brimming and threatening to spill over onto her face, which would no doubt make Zuko leap onto his ostrich horse and flee down the road.

He shifted uncomfortably, as she expected, but didn’t immediately run for the hills. “You don’t have to—I-I mean, it will be fine, Katara.”

“I know, I know,” she muttered. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“I’m not,” he insisted. “Really, you should—I mean, you _can_ -,” He pushed his hand through his hair. “Clearly I am just…incompetent when it comes to these things.”

“Well we knew that already,” she said, running the heel of her palm along her eyes again. “Though it’s not all that hard, you know.”

He looked indignant and then gave a small huff. “Well—would you…like a hug?”

It was ridiculous that he _asked_ , as if they weren’t good friends. Though it’s not like he initiated or had a lot of experience with physical affection, so perhaps it could be forgiven.

Katara hugged him around the waist before he could rescind his offer, though he looked embarrassed in the few seconds of silence after his question. She figured this would be far more comforting than his words, hanging on to something warm and anchored. He smelled nice, too, like expensive spiced soap, which was unimportant, like the fact that he had exceptionally soft and high-quality clothes even when he was dressed casually. Perks of running the Fire Nation, she guessed.

He wrapped his arms around her back, fingers briefly sliding across her hair, which was silly because it was probably tangled and unruly. He squeezed her tight and when he exhaled his breath left a trail of goosebumps down her neck.

She was so starved for comfort she held on to him for too long. When she finally separated from him, blushing for some reason, her eyes trailed down to the ground between them, though there wasn’t much of it.

“Sorry for dumping all this on you,” she remarked.

He shrugged. “I may not have had many friends before, but I think this is what they’re for.”

“Aang is your friend, too, though,” she said.

“Yes, but you’re-,” He had spoken immediately, but stopped, clearly not having thought about what he was going to say. “Well. It’s the least I can do.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” she protested.

Zuko winced. “I know,” he said. “I didn’t—I want to help.”

“You did,” she assured him, and briefly touched his arm before looking down the road. “But we should go, people will wonder where you’ve been.”

He sighed. “I don’t find that a particularly compelling reason to return.”

Katara stepped closer, brow furrowed. “Zuko, this Fire Lord stuff isn’t too much, is it?”

“Would it matter if it was?” he muttered.

“Of course it would.”

“Who will do this, if I don’t?” he asked, then shook his head. “I can’t expect Uncle to, he deserves to be happy and served the Fire Nation long enough. I don’t have a choice.” 

She hated that he looked so unhappy, but he wasn’t wrong that there was no one else to cleanse the Fire Nation of its violent history. To do it alone, though, like he was, she knew could not be easy.

“I think you’re doing a great job,” she said softly.

He gave a wan smile. “I’m not sure many would agree with you.”

“Zuko-,”

He cleared his throat and gestured down the road. “Really, we should go, like you said.”

His blatant attempt to change the subject was not going to work this time. She followed him as he took a few steps away and grabbed his arm. He faced her, hesitant.

“You have to promise to tell me if—if things get really bad,” she said. “I could come to the Fire Nation or-,”

“No, Katara, I can’t ask you to do that,” he said. “I know you want to be at the South Pole. And-,” He took back his arm from her grasp. “I promise, things are okay. I’ll be okay.”

She didn’t necessarily believe him, but couldn’t force whatever the real truth was out of him, so she let him walk to his ostrich horse without anything further. They headed back down the road towards Omashu in relative silence, and though Zuko’s lack of disclosure about the trouble of his work gnawed at her, she was happy to have spoken to someone—maybe him, in particular—about the massive mess that was currently her life.

====

The time came eventually, of course, that she talked to Aang—she was not cruel, and wanted things to be better, so when he came searching for her after a long day at the summit, she decided not to flee from her room, despite the dread churning in her stomach.

Aang was less upbeat than usual, perhaps he too knew that this was a lost cause despite not wanting to give up hope. He stood at the threshold of her room and rubbed the back of his neck. 

“Listen, Katara, I want to understand what happened,” he said. “What I did wrong.”

She had made some tea, and held the cup tight between her hands. Her heavy exhale sent ripples over the surface of the water.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” she said. 

“I must have, if you left,” he insisted. 

She shifted uncomfortably. “I just—want to be in the South Pole.” 

Aang took a few steps forward. “Okay—me too!” he began, then reached out to touch her arm. “I want to be where you are.”

She shook her head. “Aang, you can’t let your infatuation interfere with—with what you want out of life.”

“It’s _not_ infatuation-,”

“You’re 13, Aang,” she interjected, putting her tea down beside her. “I’m not much older but—but we shouldn’t sit here and pretend that we’re soulmates.”

He dropped his hand, brows furrowed over glassy eyes before his gaze dropped to the floor. 

She hated that she was doing this to someone she cared for. “I’m sorry, Aang.”

He was quiet for a few moments, before a heavy breath left him. “Why did you even bother?” he asked. “I thought we had something, and you— _pretended_.”

“That’s not it,” she said, frowning slightly. “You knew I was conflicted.” 

“Not after the war!” he protested. “You said when it was over-,”

“Spirits, Aang, don’t you get it?” she demanded abruptly, fist clenched. “I have made myself miserable my whole life putting everyone else’s needs before mine. Including yours!”

He seemed surprised by her outburst—of course he was, it didn’t fit his perfect picture of her. “I never asked you to do that.”

Katara sighed, anger suddenly deflated because there was no point in berating him. “You liked me, Aang, you—you tried _so_ many times, and I do love you and care about you, so I-,” She had been wringing her hands and dropped them. “I just thought it would be easy and make everyone else happy.”

“Well, how can I be someone you _do_ like?” he asked, persistent, as always.

“I don’t know,” she said. “I just—don’t feel the way you want.”

“You could someday,” he replied softly. 

The thought of him waiting around for something that wasn’t going to happen gutted her. “Aang, I know it seems like I’m the only girl in the world you could ever care about, but…” She gave a small shrug. “It just doesn’t work like that.”

“Who do you care about then?” he asked, gaze rising. “Is that it? Is it someone _else_ -,”

“I am not a prize to be passed around just because I can’t be with you, Aang,” she snapped. “I don’t have to have romantic feelings for anyone _ever_ and I can still be happy a-and have my life mean something.”

He looked more wounded than ever at her tone, drawing back from her. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he murmured.

“I-I know,” Katara admitted, rubbing her brow. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

Aang did not reply at first, posture crumpled inwards, until he slumped down into the chair beside him. He buried his face in his hands for a moment.

“I’m really sad, Katara,” he whispered, arms flopping down. 

This is what she hated, for both of them. Aang was trying his best, he deserved to be happy. Sometimes she wondered if it would just be easier to pretend again. Yes, she hadn’t been truly satisfied with him, but she wasn’t exactly happy now, either, alone and suddenly cut off from one of her best friends. All of them, in a sense, because they couldn’t be together with Aang staring longingly at her, while she steeped in awkwardness. 

Katara could not stand idly by in the face of his distress—from the second she met him, she had been the person supporting him on his journey, whenever he needed someone to talk to, to vent to, to believe in him. It had never…exactly gone both ways, but she didn’t need that.

She put her arm around his slumped shoulders and perched beside him, dropping her cheek on the top of his head. 

“I’m sorry,” she said softly.

He leaned into her, like all the times before when it had been too much for him, and she had been there in steadfast support. But that could not be all she was, not anymore. Aang would understand that eventually.

After a few minutes he sat back against his chair and she straightened. “I hope you aren’t angry at me,” he said. “I want to be friends.”

“Of course, me too,” Katara said, with a weak smile.

His eyes brightened, hopeful, his smile far surpassing hers. She wanted it to be his hope that they could move on, remain friends, become closer in that way, even, but a small part of her knew it was hope he could get her _back_.

It stoked more guilt in her, but was a relief, too, that when she looked at him and smiled softly back, she realized that it was never going to happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to everyone for reading! :)


	6. Chapter 6

Katara sailed into the Fire Nation capital, past the Gates of Azulon, under vastly different circumstances than she had the first time. All positive changes, except this time she did not have Sokka with her, who she could admit begrudgingly (to herself only) that she missed. He had been held up assisting her father, and at least one person from the Southern Water Tribe needed to be present on the first day of events commemorating the second anniversary of the Hundred Years War, so she went ahead of them.

There was markedly less celebration now, for better or for worse, and mostly they gathered with other leaders for political discussions focused on the Harmony Restoration Movement. Katara was just glad to have an excuse to see her friends. Their correspondence could only do so much to keep her appraised, especially with Zuko, who sent her infrequent, perfunctory letters at best since the last time she saw him in the Earth Kingdom. She tried not to be too disappointed by it, or chastise him in her replies since he didn't seem to have time to read them anyway. 

When the Southern Water Tribe ship docked in the harbor, it was surrounded by other commercial skiffs—quite different than when under Ozai’s reign these waters were cluttered with Fire Nation military cruisers. Different, too, was the lack of projectiles and fire benders waiting to descend on them when they reached the Royal Plaza. That battle had meant little, since Aang had not found Ozai—to her, honestly, it meant even less. She’d accompanied their injured father, while Sokka forged ahead. She’d wanted desperately to fight, felt so much rage, but had done nothing instead. She did that too much, she realized now, let herself do nothing because of what other people needed.

There was no reason to fight anymore, and when she trotted down the gangplank from her ship, instead of feeling dread or apprehension, she looked excitedly around for Zuko and Suki. She had told Zuko the day she expected to arrive—he hadn’t replied, but surely he’d still show up to greet her like he had before.

She spotted Suki hurrying towards the end of the dock—both broke into large smiles.

“Suki!” Katara cried, flinging her arms around the Kyoshi Warrior when she was close enough, who hugged her tightly back.

“It’s so good to see you, Katara,” Suki replied, as she leaned back and held her shoulders.

“I know I’m no Sokka,” she said. “But it’s good to see you too.”

“He’ll be here soon enough,” Suki replied with a laugh.

Katara stepped back from her completely and looked around. “Is Zuko here?” she asked.

Suki gave a guilty smile. “No, I’m sorry, he got caught up,” she explained. “But he wanted me to tell you that he misses you and he’s really sorry.”

She cocked an eyebrow. “He did not ask you to say that, but thanks.”

“I’m sure he _thought_ it,” Suki replied sheepishly.

Doubtful, given his lack of correspondence, but Katara just returned her smile. They linked arms and headed down the dock to the Royal Plaza.

“How have you been liking the Fire Nation?” Katara asked. Much to Sokka’s chagrin, Suki and some of the Kyoshi Warriors had been recently dispatched to the capital to protect Zuko—from what, Katara did not know. Zuko did not offer any details in his letters, and Sokka was no help because he was too busy bemoaning the greater distance between him and his girlfriend.

“Warmer than the South Pole, which is nice,” Suki admitted. “Ty Lee has been a big help showing us around.”

Katara looked over at her. “Has there been—more danger here? Is everything okay?”

Suki pushed her cropped hair behind her ear with her free hand. “Oh, well, not more than usual.”

“Is that a lot?” Katara asked.

“Zuko is—perfectly safe, you don’t have to worry,” Suki assured her, which was not an answer.

Katara looked ahead and tightened her hold on Suki’s arm. She wanted to press for more information, but it wasn’t fair to put Suki in that precarious situation, when surely Zuko would answer all her questions.

It was quite a trek to the palace, of course, through the small city adjacent to the harbor and then the much more resplendent houses surrounding the royal residence.

Suki showed Katara to her room once they arrived—had too much red, for her taste—but she finally got to drop her heavy bag at the foot of her bed.

“Anything changed since the last time I was here?” Katara asked.

Suki chuckled. “The décor is a _little_ less doom and gloom, I think.”

They walked out to the hallway and then into the garden—it, too, looked a lot more carefully maintained than under Ozai’s reign. Katara was surprised when she spotted Zuko further down the path from them, walking at a rapid clip surrounded by a few others. He was wearing his typical regalia, and even after two years she wasn’t used to seeing him in it.

“Zuko!” she called from across the garden.

He froze and lifted his head to look at her. She waved excitedly at him, and he passed over the scrolls in his hand to someone next to him before walking over.

Katara wrapped her arms around him tight when he was close enough—he kept growing year after year like Aang and Sokka. He returned her hug, but separated from her quickly, which was okay since his pointy shoulders weren’t that huggable anyway.

“How have you-,”

“I’m sorry, Katara,” he interjected hastily. “I have to run to this meeting, but I promise I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Zuko, you have to eat dinner,” she pointed out.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated—apparently so flustered he couldn’t think of anything else to say. “It’s just not a good time, but—I’ll see you, I promise.” 

He gave her a half-smile and turned back on his heel down the path to his advisors, far more quickly than he’d come to her.

Katara’s brow furrowed, lips in a pout, which felt bratty but she didn’t sail miles across the ocean to have her friend write them off. Things had started off so much better last year—yes, she’d had to deal with Aang, but Zuko had been there for her, been present, it almost felt like old times.

Her thoughts spiraled, then, which was happening a lot lately, especially as she felt more listless in the South Pole. Would the _old times_ really be all they had? Did that year—weeks, in Zuko’s case—really mean anything, or was it just a tiny blip in their lives? Was being Fire Lord so important and consuming for Zuko that in five years, ten years, she would just be _that Water Tribe girl_ he knew once? 

Katara turned back to Suki when he was gone. “That wasn’t quite what I was expecting,” she admitted. 

“I think it’s been very stressful,” Suki replied hastily. “You know, with the summit and everything.”

Katara could understand that, she supposed. Aang would often get hyper-focused on his work, and it’s not as if she wasn’t guilty of it, which they all justified given their lofty goals.

Suki spoke again before she could. “You must be starving, we should get something to eat,” she said. “Plus, Toph’s boat docks in a few hours, so we can-,”

During the war, Katara probably would have smiled politely at all this and been strung along, but she’d already let Aang’s friendship slip through her fingers, she was _not_ going to let that happen with Zuko.

“Suki, I don’t want to put you in an uncomfortable position,” she said. “But I can tell you’re worried. I am too, but Zuko won’t tell me what’s wrong.”

A guilty look flashed across Suki’s eyes before she looked down. “I don’t know if it’s my place, Katara.”

Katara was not one to have any concept of the impropriety of nosing into other people’s business. It wasn’t her nature, and it seemed necessary with Zuko seeing as he never shared anything.

“Please, I just want to help,” she insisted.

“You’re going to be angry,” Suki replied softly. 

Katara’s brow arched in. “What—what do you mean, angry? Did something happen?”

She looked up, jaw clenched. “Listen, I acknowledge that this was—that I shouldn’t have-,” She stopped and ran her hand through her hair. “I’ll admit I was worried, like you said. Zuko wasn’t sleeping, wasn’t—talking to anyone, not even you. One night, I saw him sneaking out of the palace. I followed him, and he….visited his father.”

“His father?” Katara began incredulously. “You—you can’t be serious. He must be…asking about his mother or something.”

Suki shook her head. “You know Ozai refused to tell him anything after the war. And now suddenly two years later, he’s going back?” She paused and swallowed roughly. “It’s been…more than once.” 

“He’s not-,” Katara’s heart was hammering in her chest, and she clenched her fist. “He would never _conspire_ , Suki-,”

She looked horrified, eyes wider. “No—no! Of course not!”

Katara turned sideways, armed crossed. “If things are bad—his father is the _last_ person he should talk to.”

“I’m sorry, Katara,” Suki said. “I don’t mean to drag you into this…”

She frowned. “Someone should talk to him.”

“I think he’s having a very hard time,” Suki said. “He doesn’t sleep, he’s always working, and people here aren’t—I mean, you knew how difficult it would be.”

“If he had just _told_ us—told _me_ , I could have helped,” she replied, frown deepening.

Suki tried to give a hopeful smile. “Well if he’ll listen to anyone, it’s you.”

Katara did not know if she believed that, since he never even told her things were hard in the first place. Suki was right about one thing, though.

She _was_ angry.

====

Since Katara had been to the royal palace before, she knew exactly how to get to Zuko’s chambers—and they were chambers, not just a room, there was a whole suite for the big, fancy Fire Lord who was apparently spending the little amount free time he had _visiting his father_.

Katara knew she could get too angry sometimes, opinionated— _passionate_ , the word people used when they wanted to be polite, but she did not think anyone could blame her for having strong convictions. She was not going to tip-toe around what Zuko was doing—it was wrong, no question. He had friends, he had a team, and no, they weren’t in the Fire Nation, but she told him she’d come, if he needed, and Aang would too, and instead he sought out his father.

The Kyoshi Warriors stationed outside Zuko’s rooms were of course happy to let her in—they had no doubt been instructed that she could go wherever she pleased.

Suki had convinced her to eat something before she marched to Zuko’s office. It didn’t make her feel better, but it meant once she was sitting at his desk, surrounded by masses of scrolls, she did not wait long until he walked through the door and made a startled sound upon seeing her.

“Katara,” he said, brow furrowed. “What are you doing here?”

He looked tired. And pale. His hair was shorter than she remembered from a year ago, which struck her as odd because he had been trying to grow it out.

The more she looked at him, the more her anger twisted painfully to—to _hurt_. It was frustrating that he was hiding from them, that he insisted on carrying his burdens alone, or worse had different ideas about how to run the Fire Nation than he did during the war, and he was afraid to tell her. He had promised to never betray her, but he may as well have if he was going to leave her out in the cold.

“Katara?” Zuko said again, when she didn’t say anything—trying too hard to keep her anger at bay. He stepped further into the room. “Is something wrong?”

She exhaled sharply, eyes flicking over to him. “I wouldn’t know, since you never seem to tell me anything lately.” 

He was obviously confused by her brusqueness and walked over to stand in front of her. Suddenly pretending to care when for a _year_ she’d gotten—next to nothing. “What are you talking about?” 

Katara crossed her arms. “Have you been going to see your father?”

He froze, eyes widening. “What?”

“Don’t insult me by pretending to be confused,” she snapped. 

Zuko took a few more steps forward. “Katara-,”

“How _could you_?” she demanded, voice rising. “You-,”

He held his hands up. “Katara, please-,”

“He is a _monster_!” 

“I know!” he insisted. “I _know_.”

She dropped her arms, letting them flop to her side. “So why are you going to see him?”

A heavy breath left him, eyes downcast. “I—I just…” He shook his head. “How did you find out about this? Who told you?”

“I don’t think that’s important,” Katara replied coldly. “ _You_ should have told me.”

“It doesn’t matter,” he insisted. “I swear I-,”

“Doesn’t _matter_?” she began incredulously. “What could you possibly want with him? Why have you been keeping it a _secret_?”

He made an exasperated sound. “It’s not a secret-,”

“Oh, yes, ferreting out of the palace at night is not evasive at all.”

Zuko narrowed his eyes. “It was Suki, wasn’t it?”

“Who cares,” she replied with a huff. “Why have you been going at all?” 

He had the decency to look guilty, at least, jaw clenched. “He—he is my _father_.”

“A father who deserved to die two years ago,” she snapped, scowling.

Zuko stepped closer. “Katara, if you would just calm down-,”

She did the opposite of _calm down_ and was tempted to freeze him into a block of ice.

“Do not tell me to calm down!” 

“You’re not even letting me explain myself!” he protested angrily. 

“What is there to explain?” she demanded. “I trust you—you know that I trust you-,”

“Do you?” he shot back.

That was—a fair hit, since her anger, at least a little part of it, was rooted in her desperate fear that somehow all the progress he’d made had been undone.

“Consider my perspective, Zuko. Your father-,” She sighed. “There is _no good_ that could ever come of this. He does not love you, he does not _care_ about you-,”

“Don’t you think I know that?” he cut in, frowning. 

“So just tell me what you’re doing,” Katara said, a short, humorless laugh leaving her. “It’s not that hard.”

He reached up to card his hand through his hair, but stopped to avoid destroying his topknot. “I can’t, Katara. I really…”

She relented, heart clenching tight at the look of utter distress on his face. She _was_ trying to be understanding, she wanted to be calm, but she also just wanted to shake some sense into this stupid boy sometimes.

“Zuko, I—I’m not trying to attack you. I just want to understand.”

He rubbed his brow. “I’m not Aang, you know. I can’t seem to do anything right to—restore _balance_ ,” he said. “I just don’t think I can be a good Fire Lord.”

She slumped against his desk. “You should have told me things weren’t going well.”

“I was…too ashamed,” he murmured. 

Katara faced him. “How many times have I told you, you’re my friend, you shouldn’t be ashamed.”

He sat beside her. “I went to my father—in a few moments of weakness. It is…lonely here and-,” He cleared his throat. “There was yet another assassination attempt.”

She straightened. “Another?” she began. “You never even mentioned one.”

“I didn’t want to alarm anyone,” he said, red rising up his cheeks. “They—they’re handled.”

“How many exactly were _handled_?” she asked.

“Five.”

“ _Five_?” she repeated, with a flabbergasted look. “Zuko, five people have tried to _kill_ you and you didn’t tell me?”

“It’s just another example of how I’m failing,” he said gruffly. “My—my people hate me.”

“A small minority who allied with your _father_ hate you,” she insisted, then shook her head. “You must have known that your plans for the Fire Nation would—would ruffle feathers.”

He frowned. “I know, and I said I had it handled.”

“You went to your father anyway,” Katara said. “That’s not…a good way to _handle_ it.” 

“I’m sorry, Katara,” he murmured. “He was predictably an asshole, if it helps.”

Thinking of them together made her blood boil again—Zuko giving that _monster_ a second of his time. Ozai was a terrible father and even more reprehensible person. Had Zuko forgotten that Aang stopped him in the process of _burning_ the Earth Kingdom to the ground?

She stood from his desk and turned to him. They were almost the same height with him leaning the way he was. “If you ever return to him, you can consider our friendship over.”

“I wasn’t planning on going back, but thanks for the vote of confidence,” he replied. 

Katara threw her hand out. “He may be your father, Zuko, but he is not worthy of your time or energy, and it—it deeply concerns me that you thought you could get anything from him. That you kept it a secret from me.”

Zuko stood, expression inscrutable. “I have meetings, Katara.”

Of course he would get defensive. She scoffed. “I’m sorry is this an inconvenient time for us to discuss you _betraying_ -,”

He jerked towards her, suddenly scowling. “I did _not_ betray you,” he growled, then gave her a critical look. “When is it ever going to be enough, Katara? When are you going to actually trust-,”

“You want to turn this around on _me_?” she demanded, tone fierce again. “This is not some minor misstep, Zuko. You’re visiting the man who tried to wipe out an entire nation like your grandfather _already_ did and—and what? Asking for advice, reminiscing about old times-, “

“I deserve to be trusted,” he snapped. “I have thrown myself at your feet begging for forgiveness since the second I started helping Aang all those years ago.”

“After all the times you tried to kill me, you mean?”

She regretted the words the minute they left her lips, worse even when Zuko’s angry expression melted from his face, replaced by surprise, maybe hurt, that someone who was supposed to be his friend would throw that back in his face. He pressed his lips tight together until they were white. 

Katara immediately tried to reach for him. “Zuko-,”

Before she could say anything else, he spun on his heel and hurried out the door, slamming it behind him. Katara sat stunned for a few seconds before she stumbled after him into the hallway.

“Zuko!” she called, but he was already gone.

She did not go back to his room, just collapsed against the heavy door and closed her eyes. That had backfired so spectacularly and it was her fault. Spirits, she could say awful things sometimes—to Sokka, Aang, now Zuko. It was churlish and ridiculous.

And where was her _hope_? Didn’t she trust Zuko, didn’t she know he was different for good this time? Or had she been burned by him too badly before to ever know for sure?

She had begged him to be honest with her—in the Earth Kingdom, in the stacks of scrolls she sent him in the past year. He ignored her, never asked about her life, never provided comfort when she told him how utterly unfulfilled she felt in the South Pole sometimes and how deeply she feared that the home she knew in her memories would never exist again.

He had a good excuse, that she should have cared about—being the literal _Fire Lord_. She knew it was hard, maybe impossible, in the same way Aang’s task seemed impossible sometimes. But even if he was drowning in the Fire Nation without them, how was his _father_ , their ultimate enemy, any kind of solution? Did Zuko really needed to be coddled, when he knew from the start that his actions, his _secrets_ , were wrong?

Katara stayed angry, even as she returned to her room, then searched for Suki so they could return to the harbor—it was just like the old times with her and Zuko, in the worst way possible.

====

Zuko felt guiltier following his argument with Katara—if that were even possible—because his frantic schedule made it impossible to give her more than a few seconds of thought. Their shouting match had made him late for an important meeting, and rather than sour that occasion as well, he neatly boxed up his thorny emotions and shoved them to the back of his mind to be dealt with later.

Katara could be so—self-righteous sometimes. And bossy. Wielding her anger so justifiably because she was always fighting for _the right thing_.

In this case, it was still the right thing, he knew that. There was nothing he had gained from seeing his father, though he resented that Katara seemed to think he could be so easily influenced by the man. Ozai had been awful and condescending, which was quite the attitude for someone to take confined to a prison cell.

Zuko had been weak and desperate and too ashamed to seek out the counsel of his friends who seemed to have their lives so together, who never struggled like he did. Being Fire Lord had been far more difficult than he could ever imagine, and the assassination attempts were no help. He’d had too many close calls for comfort—even one that singed his hair—and all he could think was that he was so close to dying and being remembered as the foolish young Fire Lord who thought he could change things. Some frazzled part of his brain, in the dead of night as he tossed and turned, thought the only other living Fire Lord could help him.

And yet despite the feeling that he was accomplishing nothing, he was busy all the time. Making decisions all the time. Being subjected to the tirades of angry nobles and irritated politicians _all the time_.

Even during the rest of the week, at the summit, he found himself too busy to really engage with the friends of his he hadn’t pissed off. Aang was, of course, upbeat and unburdened by the minutiae of running a nation—happy to see Zuko, like the others, and forgiving, or uncaring, that he seemed to be rushing around harried most of the time.

No one else spoke to him about his trips to his father. Katara must not have told them, but he did not know why. Maybe she knew not much would come of it because he’d already decided not to go again. He wondered if she was trying to protect him or just so angry she couldn’t stand to talk about it.

It waste of a summit. One day they were all there, and it felt like the next time he lifted his head, they were all leaving. The grind of his job never stopped, and there was always a metaphorical (or sometimes literal) fire to put out.

He had thought Katara left without so much as a goodbye—her tribe’s ship left early, and the night before, Sokka had hugged him and said farewell, far more despondent to be leaving Suki than him. Katara had disappeared earlier in the evening and never returned, or at least not in the few moments he had to sit with them at dinner.

The next afternoon, before he saw Toph off, he was leaving the palace with a few advisors for some on-site meetings about a handful of reconstruction projects, when he spotted Katara walking in the opposite direction—she was hard to miss in blue.

He stopped abruptly. “Katara?”

She did not seem as surprised, surveying him with a mildly disdainful look before she faced him. “You forgot I was here?”

Zuko awkwardly cleared his throat and waved his advisors ahead of him. He spoke when they were gone.

“I, uh, thought the delegation from the Southern Water Tribe left this morning.”

Katara crossed her arms. “I’m going to the Earth Kingdom for a while, with Toph. Might visit Ba Sing Se.”

“Have a safe journey,” he said, stupidly, because he couldn’t think of anything else.

She did not respond immediately, just shifted, her annoyed look fading as she looked at her feet. A sigh left her. “Listen, Zuko, I’m sorry for what I said.”

He was frankly surprised to hear that, but for some reason did not feel particularly good around it.

“I think you meant it.”

She didn’t deny it, just raised her gaze to him. “It was _justified_ , maybe-,”

Zuko snorted, which only made her frown.

“But it was wrong to—to lash out like that.”

Katara sounded sincere, which made it hard to stay mad at her, but that wasn’t really the problem since she was obviously still disappointed in his choices. Which he knew from experience he couldn’t go back in time and fix.

“It’s fine, Katara,” he said, shaking his head. “Did you—tell the others?”

“No,” Katara replied. “They’re worried enough.”

“I—I’m _fine_ , I don’t need to be fretted over,” he protested hastily. “And I said I wouldn’t visit him anymore, I meant it.”

She gave him a skeptical look, probably because promising not to go anymore didn’t negate that he’d done it already and kept it a secret.

Still, she didn’t argue with him, just looked out past the palace where his advisors had disappeared to. “You should go, you seem busy.”

That was true, but there was more he felt like he should say. The words eluded him, as usual, so he just furrowed his brow deeply before dropping his hands to his sides in defeat.

“Yes,” he said. “I’ll—see you, Katara.”

She gave a weak smile—weaker than she probably ever gave Aang even when they were at their most awkward. “Goodbye, Zuko.”

Katara disappeared back beyond the palace walls before he could walk off himself, which was impressive given how late he was.

He did not have time to watch her go, and hurried away to his next meeting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was very excited for this chapter and for the next couple ones. I think there's still some growing to do for these teens and let's be real this is a slow burn not a medium burn. 
> 
> I’ll be pulling from the comics here and there when I feel like it, but don’t want to be beholden to them because let’s be real they’re not exactly gems. (Not to get too salty, but I literally cannot fathom how the creators of this show justified an entire plot line in the comics about how Aang agreed to kill Zuko if he started “acting like his father” when Aang refused to kill Zuko's ACTUAL father.) Sorry, rant over.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is huge and I considered splitting it into two chapters, but kept it as one since everyone has been so nice and supportive :)

Katara spent six months in the Earth Kingdom—far longer than she intended, but each time the prospect of leaving became a reality, she backtracked. She had no particular attachment to the Earth Kingdom, but hesitated leaving because she knew when she returned to the South Pole, she would feel restless.

Not that things weren’t getting done there. In fact, more than ever before was being accomplished thanks to their family. New infrastructure, trade routes, truly improving the quality of life for her village and the rest of the villages around them.

Still, she couldn’t help but feel that the benevolent waterbenders who came down from the North Pole, including Pakku, were trying to sculpt her home in _their_ image. The Northern Water Tribe was formidable, accomplished, but it just wasn’t the same as where she’d grown up. So different was their culture that Gran Gran had found it untenable and fled. 

Some questions were even harder for her to grapple with—that years had passed with her there, and she began to wonder whether that would be the rest of her life. Could she and Sokka really rule the Southern Water Tribe together, with him as chief? What if he married Suki, wouldn’t she want to play a part? And how long would it be until their father passed that responsibility to them anyway?

She’d arranged for a healing clinic and training center to be built in the south, which was near completion. She could do that maybe, healing people, their individual wounds, but that was reactionary, saving lives after they’d been hurt—she had known in the North Pole that’s not all she wanted. Her heart was set on fighting injustice at the highest levels because she’d seen all that Aang was able to accomplish as Avatar. 

She could be an ambassador, she thought, though clearly not to the Fire Nation since she had no clout with Zuko any longer. Or she could resume traveling with Aang, leverage his reputation as the Avatar, but that was not fair to him, and having some sway was not worth lying to him about her feelings again.

Suffice to say it left her with a racing mind and no answers.

So Katara stayed in the Earth Kingdom—there was plenty to help Toph with at her new metalbending academy. Her friend was a good teacher and immensely talented, but the practical aspects of housing her students was—well, really beyond the reach of a young girl who like Zuko lived in the lap of luxury until very recently. _Money_ , too, was something that Toph did not have much conception of. Since she had not fully reconciled with her father, she did not have access to the unlimited coffers of the Beifong fortune and refused to charge her students for lessons. 

Toph was happy to have her help, though she was loathe to admit it, and her students were, too, since she could heal them after a long day of training where Toph rarely (if ever) showed mercy. 

At the end of her stay with Toph—for real, this time, because she had to go home eventually, Aang paid them a visit on his way to Yu Dao. After almost two years, Yu Dao was one of the few remaining Fire Nation colonies that Zuko had not relinquished back to the Earth Kingdom, like he promised he would after the war.

Aang was not hard to spot—in a cloudless sky, he could be seen from miles away, first just a speck in a sheet of blue, and then Appa would glide down to them, fur ruffled by the wind, before landing and shaking the ground beneath their feet.

Such an entrance always attracted an audience—this time, Toph’s metalbending students, who gathered behind them as Aang waved and then hopped down.

“You have no idea how happy I am to see you two,” Aang gushed, as he hugged them both. Toph squirmed uncomfortably out of it, preferring a nice punch in the arm in greeting.

A hard punch, per usual, that made Aang rub his bicep as he stepped back.

“How have you been?” Katara asked.

He exhaled a heavy breath, brows raised slightly. “You know—good. I’m good.”

Toph crossed her arms. “You’re not as annoyingly upbeat as usual, Twinkle Toes.”

“I—may be here because I need a favor,” Aang admitted, smiling sheepishly.

“We’re happy to help, you know that,” Katara said.

Aang put his hands on his hips. “I wasn’t even supposed to come to Yu Dao, you know. This was all figured out months ago.”

“Did something happen?” she asked.

He nodded. “I was informed that Zuko has suddenly shown up in Yu Dao and—well, he’s refusing to withdrawal. He says he doesn’t support the Harmony Restoration Movement anymore.”

Katara’s heart was beating so hard in her chest surely it made it impossible for Toph to hear anything else. She had not realized Zuko’s spiraling would—would turn him back into the old version of himself that craved Fire Nation superiority like his father.

“That doesn’t sound like Zuko,” Toph replied incredulously.

“I agree,” Aang said. “That’s why I’m on my way there now.”

Toph grinned. “And you want us to come too and bash some heads?”

“Or, you know, maybe we could just talk to Zuko,” Aang suggested, always the pacifist. “I’m sure once we see him, it’ll all make sense.”

Katara just pursed her lips, not wanting to voice her negative thoughts lest they be given any more weight. She would gladly come along to help Aang, not just because that was her nature, but also because she feared what would happen if Zuko could not be convinced to do as he’d promised. And despite Aang’s assurances, if there was anything she learned since her and Zuko’s falling out, it’s that nothing was really making sense anymore.

====

Toph and Katara packed their things, giving a short goodbye to her metalbending students, before hopping on Appa for the short trip to Yu Dao. The city was nestled in a valley in the eastern Earth Kingdom—populous, well-defended and a source of most of the supplies Toph needed for her academy.

They landed outside the city’s walls, though there was no fanfare, as this visit was unplanned. Aang had arranged accommodation for them, and they carried their bags into the marketplace. Aang was never one to rest, so he left them to alert Yu Dao’s mayor, Morishita, of his arrival.

Aang left them outside the mayor’s residence, which was central to town, likely built that way a hundred years ago so the Fire Nation colonists could keep a close eye on everything. There were a good number of soldiers around—maybe because Zuko was here and everyone was apparently trying to kill him lately.

They’d brought in komodo rhinos, too, the beasts large and imposing in the narrow marketplace streets that surrounded the city’s main thoroughfare. It was silly at best, Katara thought, menacing at worst, not thoughtful. She would have advised Zuko to avoid dragging such a retinue into the city, but he didn’t ask for her opinion anymore.

There was a woman in red near the komodo rhinos, with long, black hair over both shoulders, a severe line of bangs to match the expression on her face. Katara stopped with her bag over one shoulder.

“Is that Mai?” she asked.

Toph did not tap her foot against the stone beside her; she had probably already clocked everyone in the square around them. “She must be here with Zuko.” 

“What do you mean?”

Toph gestured vaguely. “They’re like _together_ now. Or whatever.”

Katara had obviously not been aware of that, given her and Zuko’s lack of communication. It was a nice match on paper since Mai was a Fire Nation noble. Katara almost wished she could still harbor some disdain for Mai after having more than enough knives thrown at her, but in truth they’d spoken a handful of times since the war, as Ty Lee dragged Mai around often when she was in town, and their conversations had been pleasant enough.

“Oh.”

“Don’t sound so disappointed,” Toph remarked with a smirk. 

“It’s not like that,” Katara protested hastily. 

She tutted, hands on her hips. “You literally _can’t_ lie to me, you know.”

“An increased heart rate doesn’t automatically mean I’m _jealous_ ,” Katara replied with a huff. “I—Zuko and I—had a difficult time at the summit, that’s why I’m upset.”

Top rocked back on her heels. “Oh I know.”

She frowned slightly. “Do you have to be so smug _all_ the time?”

“Yes?”

Katara glared at her, obviously only for her own benefit, but before she could reply, Mai was walking over to them, hands clasped in her robes. Her expression didn’t change much when she reached them, though she did nod in acknowledgement. It was a warm day, and Katara had lamented what the weather had done to her hair—Mai’s still looked perfect, soft and silky, like you could run your hands through it.

“Zuko said it was only Aang that was coming,” she remarked. “It’s good to see you both.”

“Good to see you not throwing knives at us,” Toph replied.

“Night’s still young,” Mai said, with a small smirk—Katara was pretty sure she was joking but maybe not.

Toph, of course, piled on with a grin. “You know, I can metalbend now—we should spar sometime, see what I can do with those knives.” She playfully held up her fists. “I can fight you for Sparky.”

“Not sure he’d be much of a prize,” Katara remarked, off-hand, because when they were friends that would have been a playful jab instead of a petty barb.

Mai found it funny, or at least her lip turned up slightly, given her sense of humor, which saved Katara from some embarrassing backtracking.

“Why did you come with Zuko?” Toph asked her.

Mai sighed and then gave a half-shrug. “One can only tolerate Fire Nation politics for so long, and this place isn’t-,” She looked around. “Half-terrible, I suppose.”

“Any idea what’s going on with the Harmony Restoration Movement?” Katara asked.

Mai turned back to look at her. “I guess we all knew this peace wasn’t going to last forever, right?”

Katara’s brow furrowed deeply in alarm. “What do you mean? Is Zuko-,”

The door to the mayor’s house opened at the other end of the square and Aang appeared, a look of consternation on his face, which Katara attributed to the fact that his conversation with the mayor was unusually short.

Mai could see his look of concern, too, and clasped her hands in front of her as she turned. “I’ll see you two around.”

Aang walked up to them, but did not speak until Mai was gone. “Zuko was with the mayor.”

“Why aren’t we going in there then?” Toph asked.

Aang looked genuinely confused, rubbing his brow. “It—didn’t go well,” he admitted. “He said he won’t change his mind. He’s keeping the colonists here.”

“Kuei is going to love that,” Toph muttered.

“This doesn’t have to turn into a fight,” Aang insisted. “We will find a way, it’s what the Avatar is supposed to do.”

“Zuko went back on his word,” Katara said. “That’s going to upset the Earth Kingdom more than anything.”

“This isn’t some backwater village anymore,” Toph said. “There’s a lot of money to be made here, maybe that’s what Zuko wants.”

Aang shook his head. “We didn’t speak long—that mayor, Morishita, he’s Fire Nation and doesn’t want to leave either.” He looked back at the house and grimaced. “He was quite hostile to say the least.”

“Where is Zuko staying?” Toph asked. “We get him alone, Katara can talk some sense into him.”

“Doubtful,” Katara said bitterly. “But…” She stopped and sighed—as certain as she was that Zuko would prefer to avoid her after their argument, this was a situation on the precipice of total disaster. She couldn’t stand awkwardly by just because their personal relationship wasn’t what it once was.

“We need to do something, and soon,” Aang replied. “Kuei is going to find out what Zuko has done, and if he doesn’t come himself, he will send soldiers.”

“Don’t worry,” Katara assured him, and it almost felt like old times. “It won’t come to that. We’ll find a solution.”

Aang smiled wistfully at her, clearly nostalgic as well. “You’re right, Katara. Thank you for coming with me.”

She tried not to read too much into his reverent expression—they had enough to deal with right now and surely he knew that nothing in the realm of her non-existent romantic feelings for him had changed. He may hope for something different, quietly, but that was not going to happen, and frankly, what they should be hoping for was a solution to this problem in Yu Dao that wasn’t war.

====

While Aang and Toph settled at their accommodations, Katara slipped out under the pretense of finding food. Instead of doing that, though, she followed the ostentatious komodo rhinos to the estate that Zuko was staying in near the outskirts of town. It was an odd house—most colonies were excruciatingly _Fire Nation_ in design, plopped in the middle of the Earth Kingdom with no regard for the styles of other cultures. Around here, though, it was a bizarre mix. Not exactly Fire Nation, but not quite Earth Kingdom either. 

For Zuko’s safety, the house was heavily guarded, which was not an issue for her because the Kyoshi Warriors were more than happy to see her. She had frankly been hoping to see Suki to get a real sense of what was happening, but apparently she’d stayed behind in the Fire Nation. Or maybe Zuko left her behind because he knew she would never approve of his new course of action in Yu Dao. 

His guards directed her to a room on the first floor. She hesitated for only a moment before she pushed open the door.

Zuko was sitting at a desk and surrounded by scrolls—he’d amassed an impressive number in the short amount of time he’d been in the city. He didn’t look up; maybe he was expecting someone else.

“I guess I’m not the only person you’ve now betrayed,” she remarked.

He paused and put down the papers in his hand. His eyes flicked up after a few moments. “Had that one lock and loaded, didn’t you?”

“You cannot withdrawal support from the Harmony Restoration Movement,” she declared, finally marching into the room with an air of certainty she did not truly feel.

Zuko gave her an annoyed look, which did not bode well for their conversation. “You can’t just barge in here anymore.”

“Someone has to talk some sense into you,” she replied. 

He stood, fingers still rested on his desk. “I have discussed this with Aang, and I’m not changing my mind.”

“You promised to withdraw the Fire Nation colonies," she said, an exasperated sound leaving her. "You promised the imperialism would end.”

Zuko pursed his lips. “It’s complicated, Katara.”

She scoffed. “Oh I’m sorry, can my little water tribe brain not handle _complicated_?”

“I will not expel the Fire Nation from Yu Dao,” he said, tone surprisingly firm. “Those families have been here for a hundred years, and it’s their home.”

“It’s the _Earth Kingdom_ ,” she protested. “Your grandfather marched in and claimed it as his own, took what he pleased, just like he did to _my_ home.”

He circled his desk to stand in front of her, raising a hand. “What he did was wrong, but I can’t go back in time and fix it.”

“You can now!” she insisted.

“What Aang and the Earth Kingdom want will not solve anything,” he shot back. 

“You don’t get to decide that,” she said, jaw set mulishly. 

He threw one arm out. “Kuei hasn’t even stepped _foot_ in this town, I’m the only one who cares about these people!”

“You care about the Fire Nation citizens maintaining their hold on _stolen_ land,” she countered. 

A heavy breath left his nose and he leaned back. “If you’re just going to repeat everything Aang said, you can leave.”

“Why won’t you listen to him?” she asked.

“He’s _wrong_.”

Katara sighed. “You must know how this looks—going against the Avatar.”

“I have a responsibility to my people,” he snapped. “Not to Aang.”

She stepped closer—she wondered if she was less intimidating since he’d grown. “Kuei is ready to go to _war_ over this. Is that what you want?”

“Of course not,” he replied, brow furrowed. “But I’ll defend what I think is right.”

She clenched her fists. “You promised you would withdraw the colonies. That you would undo all this damage _your family_ has done.”

“You don’t get to tell me I’m not committed to that just because you don’t like my idea,” he shot back.

She frowned. “This isn’t just an _idea_ , Zuko. Your decision will affect thousands of people-,” 

“You don’t think I know that?” Zuko interjected angrily. “I’ve spent over two years making hard choices while you sit in the South Pole and—and-,”

He hesitated and then stopped, a hiss escaping through his clenched teeth as he looked away.

Sit in the South Pole _and sew_ , he probably wanted to say. _Cook. Heal._

She had a lump in her throat, but instead of giving him the satisfaction of being hurt, put a finger to his chest and scowled. “And do what, _Fire Lord_?” she began sharply. “What unimportant, menial thing has this peasant been doing while you—you-,”

He looked immediately guilty, which did not make her feel good because it meant she was right about how he wanted to finish his sentence.

“Katara, I didn’t-,” 

“Save it,” she said acridly. “Go to war, if you want. The Fire Nation is certainly good at it.”

Zuko made a frustrated sound. “You know, you have an incredible amount of gall to storm in here-,”

“I am trying to _help_ -,”

“No, _you_ are just the most self-righteous-,”

“-which has the word _right_ in it-,”

“-stubborn, annoying— _bratty_ -,”

“Bratty?” she began incredulously. “ _Bratty_? I grew up in a poor village in one of the harshest environments on Earth, while _you_ sat in your little palace and rode around on your stupid—stupid, pallet thing-,”

His brow rose, mocking her. “Palanquin?”

Katara clenched her fists. “Oh just shut _up_ ,” she snapped. “You are the most spoiled and arrogant and _closed off_ -,” 

The door opened and interrupted Katara—she immediately stepped back and looked to the threshold like Zuko did. Mai was standing there with her hand still on the door handle. She cocked an eyebrow.

“You two sound like you’re having fun.”

Zuko looked embarrassed, face flushed. “Mai-,”

“I was just leaving,” Katara said coldly, eyes sliding back to him.

“I think that’s best,” Zuko replied, equally as terse.

She walked to the door without another word, Mai stepping aside for her, and marched down the hallway to the outside. She doubted she would be welcomed back ever again, even by the Kyoshi Warriors, and lamented that she had accomplished nothing—Zuko could be so stubborn sometimes.

How could he not understand the symbolic importance of the Fire Nation withdrawing its colonies? They’d waged war for a hundred years, destroyed thousands of lives, and these colonies were a vestige of that time—it may seem like ancient history to them, but today Fire Nation citizens still benefited from what Sozin had done, Zuko included. It would be convenient to forget, like he wanted, but how was that just?

She did not want to return to Aang and Toph and admit defeat. That was a chilling thought, that none of them could convince Zuko to stay true to his word. A failure like that would put them on another collision course with the Earth Kingdom. No matter what was happening between them, the last thing she wanted was for Zuko to be their enemy again.

There was a teahouse near the center of town, and she stopped for some, thinking a soothing jasmine blend would temper her feelings of anxiety before she spoke to Aang and Toph. It didn’t really do anything other than burn her tongue because it was too hot—she waited lethargic by the shop’s big window, cheek rested against her palm, for it to cool down because she was too frazzled to use her waterbending without freezing it solid.

She watched the bustle of town for a while—Yu Dao was a busy and flourishing city, where people dressed a little bizarrely, to be honest. She’d never seen so much green and red together, so casually. The other Earth Kingdom colonies she’d visited were largely homogenous—the Fire Nation colonists were rarely seen in town, and wore excessively fine clothing compared to the poorer Earth Kingdom citizens. Everywhere else, there was no mixing at all, no hint of any other nation or evidence of co-existence anywhere.

It wasn’t like that here, but Katara knew that there was still social imbalance, which is precisely what the Harmony Restoration Movement was designed to fix.

She was halfway through her tea when she saw some boxes being unloaded at the shop across the street—one of the men used earthbending to push a heavy load through the door, which also surprised Katara. In Haru’s village, earthbending had been strictly forbidden by the Fire Nation. That was during the war, so maybe things were different everywhere now, but it seemed as if earthbending had been part of the daily life in Yu Dao for a long time. 

It was dark when she finally arrived at the house they were staying in, Appa happily munching on some hay in the stable beside them. When she walked inside, Toph, Aang and Momo were scarfing down food.

Toph swallowed a particularly large bite and looked over at her. “Thanks for all that food you were supposed to bring us.”

“Yeah, where have you been?” Aang asked.

Katara sighed and sat down beside them. “I wanted to find Zuko. I thought I could—figure this out.”

“Let me guess,” Toph began. “He fell into your arms and will do whatever you want?”

She reached over and swatted Toph’s shoulder because leveling an angry glare at her would not convey her annoyance.

“No,” Katara said, as she flopped back on her seat cushion. “He told me the same thing he told Aang. He’s not changing his mind.” 

Toph laced her fingers together and cracked her knuckles. “So you’re saying it’s my turn next?”

Katara rubbed her face with both hands rather than let herself be baited by Toph’s ridiculousness. “We have to consider what we’re going to do if we can’t convince him. I don’t know if we can protect him if Kuei—if the Earth Kingdom decides to…”

Aang sighed. “It won’t come to that,” he insisted. “I’m sure once we get some sleep, we can work it all out.”

“So that’s your suggestion?” Toph said with a small scoff. “We all take a little nap and maybe we’ll feel better?”

“If Zuko has more time he’ll— he might, I don’t know, not go to war over this,” Katara remarked. 

Toph had resumed eating and spoke with her mouth full. “You sound a little too optimistic there, Sugar Queen.”

She did not _feel_ optimistic—she felt like there was a pit in her stomach, sharpened each second with the dread that all they’d worked for would fall apart. That the delicate balance they struck by defeating Ozai would be unraveled and replaced with more war, but this time war between friends, conflicts between what she believed were reasonable people. 

And no matter how poorly things had gone lately, she did not want to hurt those reasonable people, especially if it was Zuko.

====

Katara naturally did not sleep well that night. She was plagued by visions of Fire Nation and Earth Kingdom troops clashing, her friends caught in the middle—she hated the violence, though not as much as Aang. Being powerless felt worst of all to her. It had been almost easy with Ozai, seeing the pure evil of his actions and knowing he had to be deposed. The situation in Yu Dao was—messy, high-stakes politics. Aang could agree with Zuko, allow the Fire Nation to keep control of the village, but that wasn’t fair, even if Kuei could be convinced to allow it. But if Aang stood up for what he thought was right, people could get hurt.

She slipped out of the house early that morning, finally abandoning any attempts to sleep. She walked down the wide, main street to the center of town. It wasn’t quite as bustling as usual, given the hour, though she passed a busy smithy and a few other open market stalls.

Eventually her leisurely morning walk became _pacing_ , up and down the town square, running her hand through her hair when her arms weren’t crossed tight.

Part of her wanted to do whatever it took to avoid any violence, but it was a small part because ultimately she knew they needed to do the right thing, no matter the consequences. The Fire Nation could not be allowed to maintain its colonies if Zuko indeed wanted to usher in an era of peace. It was a non-starter, and he should know that. If they had to fight for that—the freedom of the Earth Kingdom, then so be it.

Katara wished she could be resolute in that belief, but she wasn’t. Guilt and doubt gnawed at her. Maybe she was foolish, but she truly believed Zuko had a good heart, even when he was being manipulated by his father or walking down the wrong path, as Iroh would say. There had to be something that made him--made him stand his ground like this, beyond favorable Fire Nation politics. 

Morishito walked out of his house a short time after Katara finished her first laps of the main square. She wondered if she should try to talk to him, but he was joined soon after by two women, one young and one near his age, who were both dressed in Earth Kingdom clothing. He was holding hands with the older woman, and the girl bore a striking resemblance to him, probably his daughter, which was so bizarre it made Katara stop her pacing—that anyone from the Fire Nation would deign to marry someone from another nation.

Frankly, no one really did that. Her Gran Gran defecting to another water tribe was controversial in her time—and other than Suki and Sokka, who weren’t benders, Katara had never met anyone who dated or married beyond the four corners of their individual nations. She and Aang were that, she supposed, though not anymore.

Katara stayed rooted in her spot in the town square, suddenly sick to her stomach, not from guilt or doubt— _of course_ Morishito did not want to return to the Fire Nation. That would mean being ripped from his family, and his home. If there were others like him—because if the _mayor_ inter-married between the nations surely others had—then maybe that’s…precisely what Zuko had been talking about when he refused to withdraw the Fire Nation. It was too late to keep them separate.

His solution would never work, letting Yu Duo remain a colony, but his logic and observations were--not wholly irrational. And he was right that Kuei didn’t know that, was too obsessed with demonstrating his strength as Earth King after being swindled for so long to take a critical look at the situation here.

Katara clenched her fist and tried not to let an annoyed sound break past her clenched jaw—Zuko was just going to be so _smug_ when he found out she agreed with him. Prick.

She hurried back to the house, where she hoped she would find Toph and Aang awake. When she walked through the door, Aang was preparing tea.

He smiled brightly upon seeing her. “I wondered where you were.”

“Where’s Toph?” she asked.

Aang poured her a cup without asking and slid it to her. His smile faded slightly. “I received a message this morning when I woke up—the Earth Kingdom knows Zuko has withdrawn from the Harmony Restoration Movement.”

Katara sat at the table, but was in no mood for tea. This was not good news.

“They’re coming here?”

Aang settled across from her with a small grimace. “Already on the way. Zuko apparently sent a message days ago to Kuei about his change of plans.”

“I doubt Kuei is happy about that development,” Katara muttered.

“They’re bringing soldiers. I-,” Aang sighed and clasped his hands. “I don’t want to do this.”

“Do what?” she asked. 

“Fight Zuko—hurt him,” he replied, brow creased in consternation. “He’s my friend, but…but he can’t do this, you know that.”

“I-I know,” she said.

He looked up at her with his hopeful eyes and then reached across the table to grab her hand. “I am so happy you are here, Katara,” he said. “I feel so close to you. Maybe-,”

She gently extracted herself from his grasp, eyes downcast. “Zuko is right, Aang.”

“What?”

“He’s right,” she said hoarsely. “The Fire Nation citizens shouldn’t be expelled.” 

Aang was quiet, confused, before he spoke. “Why would you say that?”

Katara sighed. “It’s been a hundred years. The people here co-exist, their _families_ co-exist, and it’s not perfect, but tearing them apart isn’t the solution.”

“It’s my job as Avatar to maintain balance,” he replied. “The Fire Nation cannot be allowed to colonize the Earth Kingdom. They have to be separate.”

“Do they, really?” she asked.

His brow furrowed. “Yes, the Fire Nation is too powerful, they will always prey on the weaker nations.”

“I don’t think we can all be separate forever,” Katara said. “Suki and Sokka are from different nations. You and I were.”

“Yes but Yu Dao was _conquered_.”

She raised a hand. “I’m not denying that there’s still imbalance, but forcing people from their homes because of something that happened a hundred years ago will hurt everyone, including the Earth Kingdom.”

“So you would just propose to let Zuko keep the land his grandfather stole?” Aang asked incredulously.

 _That_ was the real problem, one that Zuko couldn’t even solve. If the Fire Nation needed to stay, how could they truly break free from the century of imperialism that had plagued this village, the entire Earth Kingdom? The Fire Nation could _not_ keep this land just because it was convenient, they couldn’t be rewarded in that way. Zuko must know that.

“No—no, Yu Dao can’t be the Fire Nation, just as much as it can’t be returned to the Earth Kingdom,” Katara interjected quickly, then scrubbed her brow. “It has to be both.”

“It doesn’t work like that.”

She made an exasperated sound. “Then make it neither!”

Aang gave a puzzled look to her arguably nonsensical answer. “What are you talking about?”

Katara stood and paced to the other side of the room, arms crossed. “Why can’t they govern together or something?” she began. “Some sort of council or coalition.”

“That’s not the intent of the Harmony Restoration Movement,” Aang replied, shaking his head. 

She turned back to him. “If you talk to Kuei, he will listen. We can avoid any more conflict.”

Aang stood and rubbed the back of his neck. “I know that you trust Zuko, but…we can’t deny that he—he could have been influenced by people in the Fire Nation who haven’t changed like him.”

“If you don’t trust Zuko, then trust me,” Katara said. “What could be better for you as the Avatar than to advocate for us co-existing peacefully?”

His eyes were on his feet, contemplating—his face was always so expressive she could tell she was at least getting to him a little.

“I don’t know if it can be done, Katara.”

She sighed. “You’re not going to change Zuko’s mind. He will go to war for this, for his people.”

“And what if Kuei feels the same?” Aang asked.

“Kuei owes you-,”

“ _Zuko_ owes me.”

Katara hesitated—Aang was right, of course, and she crossed her arms. “Zuko is right.”

“I don’t understand why you changed your mind,” he said, as he dropped his hand.

She walked back over to him, stopping before she was too close. “Aang, my idea isn’t—isn’t to capitulate to Zuko, but the Fire Nation shouldn’t be expelled. Yes, it’ll be harder, but we have to try. They can govern together in this town somehow.”

Aang was quiet for a moment before he looked up at her. “I see what you’re saying, Katara. If we can convince Kuei, then no one has to get hurt. I think we do have to try.”

She practically beamed at him. “Thank you, Aang,” she said. “You have no idea how much it means to—to be heard.”

He stepped closer. “Katara, I take your advice more seriously than anyone’s.”

“Not your past lives,” she said, waving her hand dismissively.

“You’ve been there for me just as much,” he said.

Katara feared he would get too—sentimental, he had tried to grab her hand after all, but he did not step closer, which she appreciated. Almost as if they were friends again, after all this time.

“You should talk to Zuko,” Katara said. “I think he’d agree to a coalition—he wants what’s best even for the Earth Kingdom.”

“I sent Toph to look out for Kuei,” Aang replied. “If you find her and he arrives, maybe you can talk to him.”

She nodded, but wasn’t confident in her chances of convincing him. Aang was humoring her out of personal attachment and because he detested violence, but for Kuei, even a coalition government between the Fire Nation and Earth Kingdom was a failure on his part to regain stolen land. It was far more favorable to Zuko and Yu Dao itself.

“I will try,” she said, and though he gave her his biggest smile, she did not feel better.

====

King Kuei arrived with too many soldiers—like he was compensating for something, which was stupid, and accomplished nothing other than make everyone nervous and on-edge.

Katara and Toph met him outside the walls of the city. It was frankly hard to see Kuei among the sea of gold and green.

“You’re nervous,” Toph remarked from beside her, as she finally spotted Kuei walking towards them.

“Of course I’m nervous,” Katara whispered. “Look at all these soldiers.”

“You don’t think we could take them?”

“I don’t want to fight right now.”

Toph gave a soft snort. “Speak for yourself.”

Kuei reached them and Katara shushed Toph before smiling at the Earth King, heart trapped in her throat.

“King Kuei, welcome.”

Kuei nodded briefly in greeting, but obviously looked tense. “It is nice to see you both,” he said, then looked past them at the city gates. “You’ll excuse me, though, as I’m sure you’re aware we have business in the city.”

“Let us escort you in, without your soldiers,” Katara said. “The Avatar and Fire Lord Zuko are here-,”

A small slash appeared between Kuei’s brow. “I believe the time for negotiation has ended,” he said, voice tight. “Zuko has decided to throw away two years of good will to stake his claim on stolen land.”

“That’s not what he wants,” she insisted. 

“It’s not?” Kuei began, feigning surprise before his scowl deepened. “Because I received a letter from him stating exactly that, and I don’t recall you being an ambassador to the Fire Nation.”

“Aang and Zuko think it would be best for the Fire Nation citizens to remain here, if they wish to,” Katara said. “This is a unique, wonderful city and—and we shouldn’t be tearing families apart.”

“Oh so now the Avatar has sided with his friend?” Kuei replied, with a short, humorless laugh.

“No, no—Yu Dao will not remain a Fire Nation colony,” Katara said hastily—she felt like she was scrambling over ice, unable to accomplish anything. “I think—we are proposing a coalition. Earth Kingdom and Fire Nation governing on equal terms on neutral land.”

He gave her a critical look. “Don’t be so idealistic.”

“The alternative is war, King Kuei, which your citizens have surely tired of,” she replied, jaw set tight. 

Kuei paused to survey her, brow still crinkled. “And Zuko has agreed to this? Returning the colony to be—governed democratically?”

Katara stiffened, but hoped it wasn’t too obvious. Zuko had only ever said he wouldn’t withdraw the Fire Nation, not that he would agree to—to her somewhat crazy idea. Still, wouldn’t he ultimately want what was best for everyone?

“Y-Yes,” she eventually stammered. 

Kuei made a disgusted sound. “Perhaps you and Zuko and the Avatar have forgotten, but this land was _stolen_ from us.”

She hesitated. “I know—and I’m sure Zuko would be happy to offer some sort of reparations to further assist the city-,”

Toph coughed beside her, awkwardly, probably cautioning Katara not to agree to infusions of coin on behalf of a man she’d done nothing but argue with over the past year.

Katara did not backtrack, but did clear her throat. “We can discuss the details at a later date—I just, I am here to ask you to consider coming with us rather than your soldiers. We can reach a preliminary agreement on this. A way forward.”

Kuei was quiet, tension stretched thin between them, fists probably clenched in his elaborate robes.

“I will come with you,” he finally said, through clenched teeth. “But my soldiers remain at the ready.”

Katara trapped her sigh of relief in her throat. “I completely understand, King Kuei,” she said. “I think you’ll find once you visit the city that the solution we are proposing is the best option for your Earth Kingdom citizens here in Yu Dao.” 

Kuei only pursed his lips in response, clearly not convinced, but walked past them without ordering his soldiers along with him.

Toph turned and sidestepped so they were closer. “As charming as I’m sure Zuko finds you, not _quite_ sure he’s going to be cool with you making decisions for the Fire Nation,” she whispered.

“It’ll be fine,” Katara hissed back, then hurried to catch up to King Kuei.

She prayed to the spirits she was right.

====

Zuko was more surprised than anyone at the turn of events on his fourth day in Yu Dao. He had come with a full retinue, prepared for whatever would transpire after his decision to withdraw from the Harmony Restoration Movement. It was a terrifying choice to make alone—to trust _himself_ more than Aang and the others, who for so long had been how he navigated this world of doing _the right thing_.

His idea was half-baked at best, and he understood why they were resistant. It was true he was asking the Fire Nation be rewarded with land merely because too much time had passed and there would be collateral damage if they left.

That is, until the first truly surprising event of the day occurred and Aang showed up in the morning, said he agreed with him, and presented an idea that—was idealistic, and ridiculous, but one that could maybe divert more conflict for the time being while still giving Zuko what he ultimately wanted.

What really shocked him was the idea coming from Katara. Out of all of them, for _her_ to see his logic, his reasoning, for her to _believe_ he had good reason for thinking what he did—well, given the current status of their relationship, it didn’t make any sense.

Whether it made sense or not, it saved them from going to war—which is what he fully expected when he initially arrived. He had made a promise to Kuei and was breaking it. He did not see how they could peacefully move forward, which had deterred him from making the decision at all, but ultimately avoiding a little scuffle wasn’t a good enough reason to tear families apart, to not stand for what was right. And now, to his relief, that was not the only solution. 

Aang and Zuko headed to the mayor’s estate after their brief conversation—when they made it inside, they received word that Katara, Toph and Kuei were on their way, without all the soldiers he’d arrived with, which was a feat in itself, given how irritated Kuei likely was.

Though he had little desire to praise Katara at the moment, he did wish he had her social acumen. She was good at making people feel at ease, at knowing the right things to say. He was…not so great at that, despite good intentions.

Katara had already gotten Kuei halfway to agreeing to her idea by the time they were at the mayor’s house. She had painstakingly pointed out all the ways Yu Dao was unique, the ways the people here existed together, and rather than sheer irritation, Kuei was clearly contemplating as they stepped inside to speak.

They would not reach a full agreement now, a plan hammered out to the smallest detail. Aang just needed himself and Kuei to agree that somehow, someway both Earth Kingdom and Fire Nation could exist together, but belong to neither. And that Kuei would send his soldiers home.

Kuei demanded many concessions—including _reparations_ which he insisted Zuko had already agreed to via his ambassador, who he could only assume was Katara by the way she shifted uncomfortably in the back of the room and gave him a sheepish shrug.

He agreed to what he could, if only because he would be bringing a victory home by keeping the Fire Nation citizens in Yu Dao, regardless of if the form of government was different.

Morishito was ecstatic at the recent turn of events, which was a credit to his good intentions, at least, because Katara’s plan meant he could no longer be mayor of Yu Dao and its sole governing organ. He clearly only cared that he remained with his family and in the town they raised their daughter, whether he or some sort of council were in charge.

Morishito was practically gushing with gratitude as they walked out of his home. “We are in your debt, Avatar Aang,” he said, gesturing out the square. “Your idea has truly saved us. Thank you for helping us begin to craft a way forward for everyone here.”

 _It was Katara’s idea_ , Zuko thought, though Aang had never denied that and looked embarrassed as Morishito fawned over him, like most people did in the presence of the Avatar. Aang had said outright Katara was the one who convinced him, and said it again as they discussed with Kuei. That was a complicated narrative, though, and people didn’t like complicated. Like with the war, it was Aang who solved the world’s problems—all the accomplishments of his friends, the joint effort, attributed to him.

Morishito insisted on some grandiose meal later that day to celebrate. Zuko had to trap his groan in his throat at that prospect. They’d basically agreed to _not_ openly fight, which wasn’t a cause for much excitement, in his opinion.

Kuei returned to his troops in the interim, and to Zuko’s surprise, Katara moved to leave the mayor’s house just as quickly.

He quite brazenly hurried after her because the dread he felt seeing her walk away was a little too much to bear.

“Katara.”

She stopped and turned, but said nothing as he shuffled to a stop in front of her. 

“You’re not—staying?” he began awkwardly. 

She crossed her arms, giving a tight-lipped smile. “Oh, no, there’s probably some sewing I should be doing somewhere.”

He blanched and stepped closer—he had regretted his words so much the day before he hadn’t even technically said them, but she knew. And it was the thought that mattered, that he even started to say it, when she was the last person he wanted to hurt.

“Katara, I—you have no idea how much I—how _sorry_ I am-,”

She shook her head. “You didn’t even finish your sentence, which is not something I can say for myself.”

“I called you self-righteous and spoiled,” he said.

“You said bratty, actually,” she pointed out. 

“Oh well never mind then.”

A huff of a laugh left her, hallow, really, and he winced internally.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “I should stop trying to be funny.” 

She waved her hand. “It’s alright, I-,” A sigh left her. “It’s just not a great time right now.”

Zuko could guess what was wrong. What she was trying so hard _not_ to be upset about.

“I know it was your idea, Katara,” he said softly. “I do.”

Her brow arched in and she looked over at him. “Please, Zuko, don’t make me sound so petty and—and self-absorbed.”

“It’s not petty," he protested. "It’s ridiculous that it's already started. Morishito talking about _Aang’s_ idea.”

Katara’s lip ticked up slightly. “I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but Aang is the _Avatar_ , people tend to pay a lot of attention to him.” Her eyes flicked over to him. “And you too, Mister Fire Lord.”

“But that’s not fair,” he said.

She raised an eyebrow. “Zuko, we’re both adults now, I think we can agree not everything is fair all the time.”

He faced her. “Kuei and I were ready to go to war, Aang was just trying to pick a side— _you_ thought of something different.” He gestured up with one hand. “And yet they’ll say it’s Aang that maintained balance. That the Fire Lord and the Avatar spearheaded this new idea.”

Her expression was mostly inscrutable, jaw clenched tight. “You did—you will,” she said. “I just had some silly thought, Aang will see it through.”

“I read your letters, Katara, even though I never replied,” he said. “I know you’ve felt-,”

“It’s not worth mentioning now,” she interjected, frowning slightly. 

Not worth mentioning now around _him_ , she meant. Because she’d written him scrolls upon scrolls about her life, and he’d just…cast them aside. Like a total asshole. It was hard being Fire Lord, but he’d found time to see his father, and he should have known that a few minutes a week would have kept him more connected to her and maybe he wouldn’t have felt so impossibly lonely.

“I don’t want it to be like this,” he blurted out—abruptly and intensely like he did everything when it came to emotion. “Katara, please-,”

She was obviously surprised at his outburst and reached out to put her hand on his arm. “Zuko,” she said. “ _Zuko_. It’s okay.”

“But it’s not,” he insisted. “I don’t want to—to grow out of what we had. O-Our friendship, I mean. I know it wasn’t much time, during the war, but-,”

“Zuko-,”

He apparently just felt the need to ramble and put his hand over hers. “You’re _brilliant_ and I can’t let you—I can’t do this without you.”

She did not meet his level of energy, watching him quietly for a moment, while he practically panted from the effort of all those mortifying words falling out of his mouth.

“I’m the one who got angry with you,” she said, dropping her hand. “And told you those awful things instead of being there for you.”

Zuko shook his head. “You tried to be there for me all year. I ignored you.”

“It's no excuse," she said, brows knit together, guilty, maybe a little angry at herself. “I should have trusted you. If this-,” She gestured around the town square. “If this _mess_ has taught me anything, it’s that I can trust you to make the right choice, even when it’s hard.”

She would never understand how nice it felt to hear that, or maybe she did, and that’s why she said it. He didn’t trust himself sometimes, wondered if he would fall back into old habits, so to have her support was…invaluable. He was a fool to push her away.

“We should have done this sooner,” he remarked, hand raising to the back of his neck. 

“I must have started a letter to you a hundred times,” she murmured.

That gave him some comfort, as he’d left a river of crumpled up paper on his desk writing to her. _I’m sorry, Katara. Please forgive me, Katara. I miss you, Katara._

“So did I,” he admitted.

She reached out for his sleeve again, fingers just skimming the finely embroidered edges. He lifted his arm as well, but before he could say anything he heard the click of footsteps on stone close to them.

“Zuko,” Mai said, when she was close enough.

Katara quickly dropped her hand and looked away, while Mai grabbed his arm on the other side; she squeezed him but did nothing else.

“I heard the good news,” she said. “Though maybe a little skirmish would have been exciting.”

Zuko cleared his throat and gestured to Katara. “It was all thanks to Katara,” he said lamely, as if that made up for the institutional forces that regularly slighted her in favor of men like him and Aang who were handed power on nothing but birthright.

“No surprise there,” Mai replied.

“It was a joint effort,” Katara replied with a polite smile. “Zuko was the one who basically gave me the idea.”

Mai squeezed his arm again and gave him a warm smile. “He makes a good Fire Lord.”

“He does,” Katara agreed, then she shuffled back slightly. “I’ll leave Zuko here to give you all the exciting details. I need to pack my things.”

“Leaving so soon?” Mai asked. 

Katara pushed her hair behind her shoulder. “I’ve—been gone from the South Pole since the last summit. I think it’s time for me to head back.”

“Have a safe trip,” Zuko said.

She took a few steps past them and raised a hand. “I’ll see you in the Fire Nation in a few months—we’ll have plenty to talk about at the next summit.”

After his deluge of incomprehensible ramblings about the two of them, he was suddenly at a loss for what to say. He wished Mai hadn’t came up to them, which was an alarming thought to have about one’s girlfriend generally, but also because there was no reason for him to be ashamed to talk to Katara about their friendship in front of other people.

A tangle of words were trapped in his throat, producing nothing except a stuttering “goodbye Katara” before she disappeared down one of the narrow market streets beside them. Aang and Toph joined them soon after, moods buoyant thanks to the successful diplomatic mission of the morning, and Zuko wondered why he, the _Fire Lord_ , who had the absolute most to lose today, couldn't feel quite as happy as them without Katara around. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to everyone who has commented so far--I sound like a broken record, but I literally cannot emphasize enough how much each means to me and how motivated it keeps me! I hope y'all continue to enjoy (or not enjoy whatever the case may be!)

Before the war, Katara never really considered the fact that in other parts of the world _winter_ was not a season that was a never-ending deluge of cold temperatures. The Earth Kingdom, the Fire Nation—these were places not buried in feet upon feet of snow two-thirds of the year, like the South Pole.

She loved it, though. The darkness, the cold, the intense stillness of a winter night after a heavy snowfall. It was her home, her whole life for fourteen years.

After the fiasco in Yu Dao, Katara was happy to return home. It was an abrupt departure, to be sure, and she felt ashamed now that she’d even hinted at irritation about who was getting credit for their ideas. Aang and Zuko were immensely supportive and never once tried to co-opt her words as theirs; it wasn’t their fault people refused to see the nuance in diplomacy, to think of the world beyond what good the Avatar was doing.

It did make her angry, stoke a small amount of rage in her, even. Why couldn’t people get past _titles_? Was that what it took to—to have her contribution mean something? If she wasn’t the Avatar, the Fire Lord, the Chief of the Southern Water Tribe, people couldn’t comprehend that what she was doing might—might matter?

Her irritation was--petty and ridiculous. She knew that she was supposed to do good deeds for their own sake, to help people because it was _right_ , not because she wanted acclaim or credit. She felt like she was 14 again, a ball of fury and jealously at Aang because of that stupid waterbending scroll.

Still, it gnawed at her, despite her best efforts to keep her head down and do what she could. Sometimes she wondered what was so wrong about wanting what her friends had. The power to make true change, to be heard—not just in the South Pole, but everywhere. Because she had seen _everywhere_ and sometimes, the place she'd grown up, which probably only existed in her memories now, didn’t seem like enough.

Katara trekked up to the cliffs surrounding the harbor most days, which is when she had her most dangerous thoughts—where she let herself really be angry, or brash, watching the boats sailing in and wondering what would happen if she just hopped on one to make her mark somewhere where her other friends couldn’t reach.

It was cold this time of year, and Katara wore her heaviest parka, hood pulled up over her head and gloved hands tucked under her arms. In the vast sea of white behind her, she spotted another parka—closer, she could see it was Sokka, huffing and puffing his way to her. 

He reached her after a few minutes of trudging through the snow, throwing some of it across her boots once he stopped. He was panting, one gloved hand rested against his waist.

“Whew,” he began, tilting his head back and squinting up at the sky.

Katara raised an eyebrow. “You should start training more.”

Sokka held up a hand. “Oh, no—no, no. This-,” He gestured up and down his chest. “This body is a lithe and finely tuned machine, little sister. I just didn’t eat enough this morning. Not enough energy.”

“Somehow I find that hard to believe,” Katara remarked with a grin.

Sokka had managed to catch his breath, no longer puffing clouds of white. He had enough energy to give her an indignant look. “You know, I came up here out of the kindness of my heart to tell you that your precious Fire Lord is coming here-,”

Katara spun on her heel to face him, this time splattering snow all over him. It had hardly been three months since she had been in the Earth Kingdom, and suddenly she'd be seeing him again, when before their visits were annual at best? 

“I’m sorry—what?” 

“Oh _now_ she wants to talk-,”

She made an exasperated sound. “Sokka, why is Zuko coming _here_?”

“Southern Reconstruction Project,” he replied. “Dad asked him to help.”

“It’s still practically winter,” Katara said.

Sokka shrugged. “Don’t ask me, Zuko said he wanted to come now.”

“How soon is now, exactly?” Katara asked.

“A few weeks at least,” Sokka replied. “Maybe shorter if he comes by airship.”

Katara felt a little better knowing she had some time—the cold air no longer felt like it was crushing her windpipe, trapping panic in her gut. Not that there was reason for alarm that Zuko was visiting, it just—well, frankly it was a _little_ alarming since she wasn’t sure the vestiges of awkwardness from their previous arguments were gone, and the _last_ time he’d been in the Southern Water Tribe, he’d not made a….great impression.

She crossed her arms, exhaling a wisp of white. “The Fire Lord coming to the Southern Water Tribe.”

“You think it’s a bad idea?” Sokka asked.

“I don’t know,” Katara said. “I think—we have to move forward eventually, don’t we?”

He shrugged. “If Zuko wants to give us a bunch of coin, I’m all for it.”

“You really think he’ll do that?” she asked.

Sokka ran his mitten across his jaw. “No one can say no to this face,” he said. “Or yours, maybe, but you won’t tell me if you and Zuko are friends again.”

“We’ve always been friends,” Katara said with a huff.

“Right, but are you friends or are you _friend_ friends?”

She looked over at him, brows drawn together. “You literally just said the same word three times.”

He gestured with both hands—he may have been using air quotes but she couldn’t tell under his mittens.

“Are you casual summit friends that give annual one-armed hugs, or are you Angi-Kai-jump-in-front-of-lightning-for-you friends, which—you know, thinking about it now may be actually more than a friends thing-,”

“We are—good friends,” Katara said hastily. “Okay? Just—regular friends.” 

Spirits, she sounded as idiotic as Sokka. _Regular_ friends? Why was she so deeply concerned about the degree of their—their relationship? It was messy, yes, but when was it ever not messy, even with Aang or Toph or her own brother.

To avoid any further conversation on the topic, Katara gestured to the village. “You got enough energy to make it back?”

Sokka put his arm around her and squeezed her shoulders—like Zuko, he’d had quite the growth spurt since the war. “Remember when we used to roll down this hill?”

“ _You_ used to,” Katara said, as they started down. “I told you not to because it was too steep—you almost broke your arm one time.”

“Oh that’s right, you hate fun.” 

She playfully shoved him into the snow—he sunk into the flurry and rolled down a few feet.

“That was fun!” she called after him, and her laugh followed him the rest of the way down the hill.

====

Zuko was understandably nervous about his arrival to the Southern Water Tribe. He’d been Fire Lord almost three years and never made the journey. The optics were just—awful, by his own doing. The last time he was in the South Pole, he'd been at his absolute worst. And his aggressive acts were just one in a stream of assaults on the village since the start of the war.

Pretending like it never happened would do him no favors. He regretted his actions and had the means to make amends—or at least try.

It helped that his friends were there. Even certain friends, in particular, who fled the Earth Kingdom too quickly for them to speak more, like he wanted, so their closeness wasn’t a distant memory. They told him he was crazy to make the voyage at this time of year, but he wanted to go, a little cold wasn’t going to dissuade him.

He arrived by airship since there was too much ice in the harbor for his men to navigate safely—they were not used to such conditions like the sailors from the South Pole. Arriving by boat would likely also reproduce the effect that Sokka had described so vividly during the war—the black snow, tainted by soot, falling in the village to signal an impending Fire Nation raid. He did not want to harken back to those painful memories during a visit that was already so close to disaster.

Though he was advised against it, Zuko disembarked the airship without any guards. It felt—insensitive given what men in those uniforms had done before. He had little fear of being attacked, though maybe if he was, all it meant is that he deserved it. 

Hakoda, who was elected chieftain of the entirety of the Southern Water Tribe, was at the front of their party, waiting outside what was _definitely_ not the village Zuko saw when he had last visited—well, invaded—three years ago.

Katara had mentioned that Pakku and a few others from the Northern Water Tribe had arrived during the war to help rebuild the South Pole, but he had not realized the progress they made. Previously, the village was a messy assortment of tents and igloos, with a short wall of snow that did not provide much defense. Many buildings were now made of ice—full, realized structures, along with carved canals.

Similar to the Northern Water Tribe, to be honest, which is perhaps what chafed Katara so badly about all this change, but still, it was an impressive achievement.

Katara and Sokka were beside their father. He understood that they couldn’t greet each other as usual, since a lot of the tribe was watching, and might express disdain at him receiving an overly-genial welcome. They were both wearing heavy, fur-lined parkas, Katara’s dark hair tucked behind her ears. She wore it down more often now, not in a braid, maybe because she wasn’t gallivanting around the world being chased by some asshole teenager with a bad haircut.

Her eyes were prettiest when she wore blue and—well, he needed to not be thinking about that while he began conversation with her father, who may have reservations about his daughter being the object of—a little purely _friendly_ admiration from the Fire Lord. 

Hakoda spoke once he stopped in front of them. “Fire Lord Zuko, welcome.”

“Thank you, Chief Hakoda,” he said. “I was humbled to receive your invitation.”

“Not many non-southerners would brave the cold this time of year,” Hakoda admitted.

Zuko had practiced this conversation a million times—he could _not_ screw it up—so instead of his usual awkwardness he gave a polite smile. “I’m eager to help rebuild given the destruction your people have suffered at the hands of the Fire Nation.”

He tried not to flinch after that; it was hard, facing these things sometimes, what the Fire Nation had done. In some ways the past three years had felt like one massive apology tour, a lesson in constant repentance, but he reminded himself that he should be the _last_ person hoping to shy away from the truth of the matter.

Hakoda put his hand on Sokka’s shoulder. “We appreciate your willingness,” he said. “But we will have plenty of time to discuss later, I’m sure my children would be happy to escort you into town.”

“I’m an excellent tour guide,” Sokka interjected, while Katara shook her head vigorously out of view of her brother.

“It’s good to see you both,” Zuko replied with a grin.

Katara smiled back at him, wide, with her teeth—that hadn’t happened in almost two years, and it made him happier than he cared to admit.

====

Zuko was given a short opportunity to gather his things and review some correspondence before Hakoda’s formal presentation. He returned to his Fire Nation airship and was told for the hundredth time to take some soldiers along, to which he steadfastly refused.

He was walking back into the village, to the newly-erected town hall, when up the cliff overlooking the harbor, he spotted a blue parka against the stark white snow. Dark hair accompanied the blue, which was obviously common in the Southern Water Tribe, but he knew it was Katara. 

The wind picked up as he changed course to walk over to her, ice cold and cutting through him like he was wearing nothing. He hunched over slightly, almost deterred from trekking further, but he steeled himself and made it the rest of the way.

She heard him, the ice crunching under his feet, his teeth chattering, probably, but kept her eyes ahead. Her cheeks were flushed from the cold. 

He should have thought about what he was going to say instead of how cold he was. He clasped his hands tight when he was beside her, looking out at the endless plain of white in front of them and the churning dark blue sea.

“Hi,” he eventually said, like an idiot. 

Katara’s lip curled up slightly, and she looked over at him. The wind was blowing strands of her hair across her face. “Aren’t you cold?” she asked.

He looked down at his bare hands—pale and tinged with pink. “Uh, a little, I guess. I tend to run hot given the—firebending, but it’s…” He nodded. “It’s definitely cold.”

“It’s weird seeing you here,” she remarked. 

Zuko sighed. “I know my last visit wasn’t…”

She crossed her arms, turning to him. “It’s okay, Zuko, we don’t have to talk about that.”

“I know,” he said. “I just—I was so nervous that this was a terrible idea.” His brow furrowed and he looked down. “But we have to move forward, and I want to help, if I can.”

“We couldn’t avoid each other forever,” she admitted. “The Fire Nation and Southern Water Tribe, I meant.”

“I doubt you and I could avoid each other either,” he replied. 

Katara pushed her hair behind her ear, trying to wrangle it in one place. “I wouldn’t want that.”

“Neither would I,” he said, though he couldn’t look at her, kept his gaze trained on the swirls of snow being picked up by the wind. 

She patted her mittens together absent-mindedly, lips pursed. “I know I left abruptly in Yu Dao, but I—to me, I think we’re….” Her eyes flicked over to him, uneasy. “Okay, right?”

“Definitely, yes,” he said, too earnestly. “You know I’m sorry and-,”

“We just haven’t written to one another-,”

“I-I meant to—I need to do better,” he said. 

Katara shook her head. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, really. You’ve got so much to deal with and-,” She gestured vaguely. “I’m sure you’d rather spend time with Mai than write to me anyway.”

He was quiet, frozen like the snow packed under his feet. A flush rose up his neck that he hoped she didn’t notice—a guilty one, which was so incredibly uncomfortable he felt like he was going to melt entirely through the glacier under them.

The truth, the pathetic, complicated reality of the matter was that he’d taken up with Mai out of—convenience, desperation. He’d felt so lonely, and his council had been so insistent that he begin _keeping the future of the Fire Nation_ _in mind_ that he…capitulated.

Not that he did not deeply care for Mai or appreciate all she had done for him, but he couldn’t pretend that each iteration of their relationship wasn’t—just because it was easy, comfortable. When he’d been in the Fire Nation during the war, he was willing to do anything to reclaim a sense of normalcy—to feel like he was finally the Crown Prince he wanted to be, and that meant having a Fire Nation noble on his arm. It never felt right, none of it did, which is why he left without so much of a goodbye.

Mai was fooling herself, too. She’d spent a lifetime wading through Fire Nation politics thanks to her father and _despised_ it. That normally wouldn’t matter, but politics was a non-negotiable part of being with him. There were relatively disengaged Fire Ladies throughout Fire Nation history, of course, but his reign was already more involved than most considering his goals and—and maybe he wanted a partner that did not view their work with such disdain, though he couldn’t blame her for feeling that way.

They had not spoken about this at all—discussed the future. Mai hated talking about those things, preferred to pretend everything was fine, and sometimes he did too because without her, he had no one.

It was selfish and awful and some days he thought he could do it for the rest of his life.

“I like writing to you,” he murmured eventually.

“You’re hardly giving me a chance,” she said with a small laugh. “Everywhere I go, there you are.”

He blushed. “Your father asked for my help-,”

“And you come rushing to the South Pole in winter?” she finished, brow raised.

“It’s not—technically winter,” he pointed out.

“Still, it can be harsh here,” Katara said.

Zuko shook his head. “Oh, I know. You’ll recall I dragged Aang through the middle of the North Pole in a snow storm.”

“Sokka wanted to leave you behind, you know, after we found you,” she replied. 

“Of course he did,” he said with a snort. “I deserved it. You were too kind to me.”

“Actually, Aang was the one who insisted we help,” Katara said.

Zuko smiled slightly. “Have you come around to me now, maybe?”

“Oh, no, I’ve been secretly plotting your assassination for years.”

He pivoted to her, offended, and she let out a scoff at his wounded expression.

“I was kidding.”

“I—I know,” he insisted with a huff, redder now, even though it wasn’t any colder.

“Besides,” Katara said, as she grabbed his arm and turned them both back to the village. “If I _really_ wanted to kill you, I definitely could have done it already. I have utterly trounced you on multiple occasions.”

Sokka was at the bottom of the hill when he glanced down, waving with both arms to them—Zuko wondered why he didn’t just come up to the ridge to tell them everyone was ready for the meeting.

“You could at least _pretend_ we are somewhat evenly matched,” he replied.

She patted his hand with her heavy mitten. “Of course, your majesty. Evenly matched on occasion.”

He looked over at her, lip upturned. She was obnoxiously smug sometimes—it reminded him that she and Sokka were indeed related.

Katara met his gaze, the corner of her eyes crinkled from her smile. They had reached the bottom of the hill where Sokka was waiting for them.

“What were you two doing?” he asked.

“Nothing important,” Katara said. 

Sokka gestured between them, eyebrow raised. “Just some _regular_ friends gazing into each other’s eyes?”

Zuko’s brow furrowed. “Regular-,”

“We’re going to be late for the meeting,” Katara interjected, glaring at her brother, and if she were a firebender he’d probably be engulfed in flames.

Sokka gave her an inscrutable look as she dropped her grip on his arm, and the three of them trudged back to the nearest canal.

“You think we have time to stop for some seal jerky?” Sokka asked.

Katara frowned. “You cannot have a _snack_ during the meeting.”

“I’m hungry,” Sokka protested indignantly. “I only ate like-,”

“Fifteen minutes ago?” Zuko interjected.

Katara giggled, while Sokka crossed his arms.

“Oh so is this why you’re friends again?” he asked. “To gang up on me?”

“Among other reasons,” Katara replied, and she flashed him another smile.

She really was too clever for her own good sometimes. Or maybe _his_ own good. 

====

Hakoda had grand plans for the Southern Water Tribe. Ambitious plans. And Katara loved her father, and he was infinitely wise, but sometimes she feared that they were trying to turn their home into a cheap imitation of the north, at the urging of Pakku, no less.

Still, she could not deny they needed a better harbor. Navigating those waters in winter was a challenge that many merchants or sailors did not want to undertake, dwindling their supplies for months. Becoming more accessible to the Earth Kingdom and Fire Nation would give them better food, medical tools—all good things.

Things that cost money, of course, which the Southern Water Tribe didn’t really have much of. That’s where Zuko came in. He was eager to help, to his credit—he would do anything to erase the terrible legacy of his father and grandfather.

He listened very attentively to Hakoda during their meeting, in his fancy robes with his straight posture and stern _Fire Lord_ face. He was hardly a scowling teenager anymore—a scowling man, maybe, since he’d just turned twenty, but also an earnest, repentant one, when he was with her, or when no one was watching.

Katara was staring at him for too long—probably not good for a diplomatic meeting, but he was speaking so perhaps she didn’t look like a total lunatic.

“These all sound like great ideas, Chief Hakoda,” Zuko said, after her father had finished speaking. “If you are able to provide some more concrete estimates on the cost, I’m happy to bring them to my Minister of the Treasury, to see what we can do.”

Hakoda nodded. “We also think it would be a good idea to appoint an ambassador to the Fire Nation, to continue negotiation or answer any questions as we move forward.”

“We would be happy to welcome representatives of your tribe to the Fire Nation,” Zuko replied.

Katara did not know why that sounded so appealing to her. There was—so much to decide with this project, so much she could do if she had the chance and title to really pitch things to Zuko like she wanted.

She had known her father wanted an ambassador, but hadn’t thought about it seriously, not before Yu Dao, anyway, when she was doubtful Zuko would be willing to welcome her anywhere within ten feet of the Fire Nation. Things were better now, though, would be moreso if she was around more often and—and frankly she was tired of sitting on the sidelines. Zuko was clearly not just governing the Fire Nation, he was making choices that would shape the whole world.

“I’ll do it.”

Katara heard the words in the quiet room, then everyone’s necks snapped around to her, and she realized that _she’d_ said it.

“You—you will?” Zuko began incredulously.

She considered rescinding the request at his confused expression, and Sokka’s too, but decided against it—these boys were just going to have to get used to her bossing them around again. (Or at least more.) 

“Is that okay?” she asked, turning to her father.

Pakku, sitting beside Hakoda, shook his head. “You’re a little young, Katara.”

She frowned. “I’m eighteen. Seeing as the _marrying_ and subsequently _child-bearing_ age in your tribe is sixteen, I think I can be an ambassador.”

“I agree,” Hakoda said, to her surprise, masking a small smile.

Zuko nodded soon after. “I have no objection, of course,” he said.

Katara smiled widely. “It’s settled then.”

Sokka was next to her and sunk into his chair. “You don’t even like spicy food,” he muttered.

He was pouting because Suki was still in the Fire Nation. Katara turned her shoulder so she was blocking the rest of the table. She whispered to him, still smiling.

“If you’d rather be ambassador, I’m happy to become the next Chief of the Southern Water Tribe.”

Sokka stuck out his tongue at her like the incredibly mature nineteen year old that he was, but said nothing, which just made her snort. 

She shouldn’t tease him like that, she knew, because he would make a great chief and was desperate to lead like their father did now—desperate like her to leave his mark on the world and even more jaded sometimes that he wasn’t a bender like her. Not that he would ever admit it.

Katara straightened and leaned back in her chair, still smiling, like the others, except for maybe Pakku who probably already had someone in mind for ambassador that was now being passed over for her. He would call it nepotism, but she didn’t care. She would do this job better than anyone. If she was old enough at fourteen to fight in—and _win_ —a war that men for a hundred years could not stop, then she could manage being ambassador to a country run by her—well, _regular_ friend.

====

Zuko found her at the end of the meeting, outside the town hall walking down one of the newly constructed canals. She kept moving at first, but slower because she knew he was not used to hurrying along on ice. Though maybe it would be funny to see the Fire Lord fall on his face.

“You should have told me that you wanted be the ambassador,” he said. “I would have—I could have voiced more support, you surprised me.”

“Would you prefer that I not take the job?” she asked, stopping to face him. 

“No, of course not,” Zuko said hastily. “I would be very happy to have your help.”

Katara smiled slightly. “You may regret saying that, I can be very stubborn.”

“I find that endearing,” he replied. 

“When we’re in agreement,” she countered with a short laugh. 

He didn’t smile—she really should stop trying to be so funny. His arm rose to his neck. “Katara, really, why—why would you want to come to the Fire Nation?”

She was asking herself that, but there was no going back now. “I know your job feels impossible sometimes,” she said. “That it’s hard.”

“I don’t want you to give up anything just to come help me,” he remarked, face twisted in consternation. 

“I want to be ambassador, Zuko,” she insisted, and reached out to gently touch his robes. “And I’m not doing it for you. I want to help my village. Squeeze every last coin I can from the spoiled Fire Lord.”

“I don’t doubt that,” he said, a whisper of a smile on his lips. 

Katara dropped her hand. “Won’t it be nice to have another friend in the Fire Nation?”

“Of course,” he replied. “There’s—no one I’d rather have as an ambassador.”

“Just don’t tell Sokka that,” she said, grinning.

His cheeks were tinged with red and his eyes trailed down. “As long as you’re not doing it because you think I’m incompetent and—and lonely.”

“You know I don’t think you’re incompetent,” she said. “And are—are you lonely?” 

He hesitated before speaking. “I don’t know,” he admitted, and then shrugged. “Most times I’m too busy to notice, I guess.” 

Sometimes it physically hurt her heart to think about how isolating it must be for him in the Fire Nation. He had Mai now, at least, but before—who could he really trust? His only tolerable family member was thousands of miles away in the Earth Kingdom. A dictator for a father, an institutionalized sister, a dead mother. He would hate how sorry she felt for him. 

“Zuko-,”

He gave a mildly disgusted huff. “Please—not _that_ tone.” 

“What?” she asked with a small laugh, trying to sound innocent. She decided to hug him, if she couldn’t help her overly maternal tone, arms around his neck with her chin on his shoulder, except he squirmed out of her grasp, hands on her waist to separate them a few inches.

“I am not some sad little _child_ ,” he grumbled.

She put her mittens on his face, squeezing his cheeks in towards his nose. “Still cute, though.”

Zuko gave an indignant huff and untangled himself while she laughed again. “Your—your _pity_ ambassadorship has been rescinded.”

“I don’t answer to you,” she replied.

“The _Fire Lord_?”

Katara quirked an eyebrow. “See, I knew this had gone to your head.”

“Good thing you’re coming to the Fire Nation,” he said. “You can keep me humble.”

“Count on it,” she replied with a smirk.

He narrowed his eyes at her, trying to look annoyed, but he followed her further down the canal anyways. Even in her heaviest parka, this time of year she felt cold when she was outside too long, but right now instead she felt flush, heart beating fast—she hadn’t been this excited since Yao Du, seeing a problem before her, something she could solve and people she could help. In the Fire Nation, of all places.

She didn’t stop smiling the rest of the day. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We transition to the Fire Nation now but rest assured Katara as ambassador is only the beginning of her kicking ass and taking names :)


	9. Chapter 9

Katara was nervous about her new position in the Fire Nation—she would not _admit_ she was nervous, she would not _act_ nervous, but obviously it was an entirely new endeavor that would require some adjustment, and there was serious room for error. She knew the ins and outs of the Southern Reconstruction Project, knew that she and Zuko were at least as solid as they were before, but living in the Fire Nation, navigating the politics there, was quite the undertaking.

Zuko took his leave of the South Pole before her, giving her a few weeks to prepare, and for him to arrange everything for her arrival. She hoped that her being an ambassador would not be controversial—Zuko would not admit if it was—but if the other nations were appointed emissaries, so there was no reason the Southern Water Tribe shouldn’t be too. Though, with a sliver of smug satisfaction, she noted that she may be the _favorite_ ambassador of the Fire Lord. 

Suki could not meet Katara at the harbor when her ship docked in the Fire Nation—she was in Kyoshi for a few weeks, which lessened the blow for Sokka when he said goodbye at the South Pole, knowing that Katara wasn’t sailing off to buddy up with his girlfriend.

Zuko could not meet her either, due to his schedule, but she had not merely arrived for a visit, so she didn't mind—it was bizarre to think how much time they would get to spend together with her here, maybe as much as they did during the war.

It was early in the morning when Katara arrived, and the docks were crowded. She walked down the gangplank rubbing her eyes and yawned before stepping into the morass of people, a speck of blue in a sea of red and gold. She’d only made it a few steps when she felt a hand grab her elbow.

“Ambassador Katara.”

She spun on her heel to a man, face obscured by a cloak, except for a small smile she couldn’t _not_ recognize.

“Zuko!”

His smile widened, and she threw her arms around him. He squeezed her tight, like he used to, and then stepped back slightly to look at her.

“You didn’t have to come down here,” she said.

“And not meet my new ambassador?”

Katara clenched her hands in his cloak. “This isn’t exactly a royal welcome with your regalia.”

“Those tend to be rather stiff and formal affairs,” he replied. “Though if you want I could get one of those _pallet things_ for us.”

“Oh very funny,” she said. “I can still get back on that boat, you know.”

Zuko took her arm and led her down the dock. “No, I’m afraid I’m ordering you to stay.”

“You can’t hold me against my will,” she countered, then gestured vaguely with her free hand. “You’d have to—tie me to a tree or something.”

He snorted. “We have trees here in the Fire Nation, don’t think I won’t.”

Katara chuckled, but he furtively looked away, probably blushing, though she couldn’t tell with his hood drawn low.

“I shouldn’t joke about that,” he muttered. “I’m sorry.”

She put her other hand on his arm. “I think you’ve said sorry enough.”

“That is an entirely premature statement,” he said. “But I—I’m very happy you are here.”

There were her nerves again, frayed after so many weeks, making her heart beat fast. She let out a heavy breath.

“I’m happy, too—excited to get to work.”

“We’ve set up a room for you in the palace,” Zuko said. “Suki told me that you, um, don’t like the red so much, so I had them—you know, take it down a notch or two. It overlooks the gardens, it’s—nice.”

“The gardens?” Katara began. “So I’ll get to watch you brood over the turtleducks in the morning?”

“I do not _brood_.”

Katara barked with laughter and he glared at her. She squeezed his arm and walked closer to him, despite the fact that the crowds had dissipated outside the harbor.

“Zuko, this is such a long walk,” she said. “Surely you have way too much to do for this.”

“It’s early,” he said. “And I wanted to make time. I thought you could come to the council meeting this afternoon—I could introduce you?”

Her knuckles were white against his cloak she was hanging on so tight. What would a bunch of old Fire Nation nobles think of an eighteen year old girl from the Southern Water Tribe? Nothing favorable, she assumed. 

“That sounds great,” she said with a tight smile.

She was apparently more transparent than she thought because he reached up and put his hand over hers. “You have nothing to worry about, Katara. These—cranky old ministers are nothing compared to what you’ve dealt with before.”

“I know,” she replied hastily. She had been fiddling with her hair, which must have been the dead giveaway, so she dropped her hand. 

Zuko gave her a reassuring smile that she returned with a slightly paltry one, but then looked ahead, determined not to let her panic infect her further. It would not help her, when she needed confidence.

Some luck probably wouldn’t hurt either.

====

Katara’s room was nice, like Zuko said—overlooked the gardens, which were much more carefully manicured than under Ozai’s reign. The decor was less doom and gloom, too. Katara could never understood why there had to be so many tapestries plastered with the Fire Nation insignia around, as if she forgot where she was every few feet and needed to be reminded. She had a window, too, which helped bring some light in, and though she _definitely_ would not need them, she brought some of her family’s furs for the bed.

She unpacked her bag, including a dress she made for herself, with Gran Gran’s help. Most of her clothes were too heavy for the weather here, and though she technically still had the clothes she wore in the Fire Nation during the war, wearing red was out of the question. She doubted there was an abundance of blue dye in the Fire Nation capital, so she planned ahead before leaving the South Pole.

There were a lot of people in the palace—more than she expected, really. An entire orchestra of servants and attendants for, well, one person, basically, because the royal family was not much of a family these days. It was Zuko, alone, the sole occupant of a massive place of bad memories.

Sole occupant until her arrival, that is. 

Katara made her way around the palace during her first few hours in the Fire Nation, poking her head into rooms she probably had no business being in. Most of it was quiet, deserted. Hollow extravagance, especially in the throne room—the Fire Lords before Zuko sure knew how to make things intimidating and depressing at the same time.

Zuko eventually found her for their afternoon meeting. He had changed into his formal attire, put his headpiece on with some his hair pulled into a top knot—he’d cut it again once he’d returned from the South Pole. He kept waffling on growing it out, it seemed; he never said why, but she knew it was because he didn’t want to look too much like his father. She could hardly remember what Ozai looked like, though right after the war there were still plenty of paintings of him in the palace—they did have the same piercing golden eyes, dark hair, angular features. Zuko’s scar obviously defined him in many ways, but still she knew he worried that all people would see in him was his father now that he was older.

“Your dress is—uh, nice,” Zuko remarked, when they were in the hallway.

She ran her hand across the front of it—her hands were sweating, spirits, why was she _sweating_?

Katara just gave a little nod and followed him as he walked down one of the wide hallways to where she assumed he met with his council. He awkwardly cleared his throat after they carried along in silence for a few minutes.

“I shouldn’t have said anything about-,”

She wasn’t _precisely_ paying attention to him. “Sorry, what?”

“Your, um-,”

Katara stopped abruptly—she spotted a set of doors, and she was afraid they were too close to their destination considering how poorly she was holding herself together.

“I—don’t know anything at all about the Fire Nation, Zuko,” she said, practically blurting it out. “Except that up until three years ago I hated it and thought the armor was stupid.”

Zuko stopped beside her, turning slightly. He looked very confused, but then shook his head. “I-I can’t blame you, I guess.”

“Shouldn’t I—know more?” she began. “Surely you read up on our tribe before you visited—the, uh, second time.”

“I did,” he admitted. 

“Well, I should too.”

Zuko gestured down the hallway. “They’re—not going to interrogate you in there.”

“I know,” she replied defensively, then rubbed her brow. “Spirits, I don't know why I'm concerned, they probably could care less about me.”

He smiled slightly. “Listen, Katara, there’s no shortage of books on the Fire Nation, and some of them aren’t just my father’s propaganda. I’ll arrange for you to get some, or I could-,”

“No, no,” Katara said, waving her hand. “You have enough to do already to agree to be my—personal tutor.” 

“I’m afraid I’m not much of a teacher anyways,” he said.

She patted his arm. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, Sifu Hotman.”

They continued walking as he scoffed. “You know I was going to invite you to dinner, but now I’m re-considering.”

“I didn’t realize I needed an _invitation_ to dine with the Fire Lord,” she replied.

Zuko shrugged. “Mai and I normally eat-,”

Katara made an exasperated sound. “Oh come on, Zuko, I’m not going to crash a date with your girlfriend.”

“It’s not a _date_ -,”

“I’ll go into town,” she insisted. “If I’m here for a while I should know where I live.”

“Another time then,” Zuko said, and then they were in front of a set of massive doors with a gold inlay which she assumed were the pretentious type of doors that concealed the meetings of the Fire Lord and his top advisors.

She swallowed roughly, and hoped Zuko didn’t notice. He didn’t comment, if he did, just pushed open the door, and with a calming breath and shoulders back, she followed him.

====

For all Katara’s consternation, the meeting was uneventful. She knew, at least, that to make a good impression it was likely better to _observe_ rather than immediately champion what would probably be some controversial ideas, especially since she assumed there was already resistance to Zuko funneling a bunch of coin out of the Fire Nation.

There was obviously nothing surprising about Zuko’s advisors. Clearly he had done what he could after his coronation to root out any of his father’s most ardent supporters, but even the nobles who did not have a taste for Ozai’s tyranny were not exactly progressives. There was a woman among the advisors, at least—one—but they were all as old as Iroh, landed, wealthy, from generations of families in the Fire Nation who got everything they asked for.

The ambassadors were the same, but for all the stiffness and formality and butting heads, Katara left feeling excited at the prospect of what could be accomplished.

Shortly after she arrived back in her room, a series of scrolls and books was delivered to her—too many, to be honest; the Fire Nation clearly took its history quite seriously, and it was a little overwhelming, so she surrendered the pile to the desk in her room for another time.

Because she wasn’t getting dinner with Zuko, Katara headed out of the palace in the early evening. She was hungry, so she re-considered his invitation, but ultimately decided it was better not to be their third wheel. Not that she didn’t like Mai, but, well, she got enough of the relationship crap seeing Suki and Sokka all the time that for whatever reason she didn’t want to stomach it with Zuko and Mai.

She was heading out past the palace walls when she spotted Mai walking towards her—gliding, really, she had such nice posture and smooth movements. Katara stopped and waved to her. Mai was not as enthusiastic upon seeing her, brow furrowing.

“Katara?” she began, stopping in front of her. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m the new ambassador, from the Southern Water Tribe?”

Surprise flashed across her face for a moment, barely noticeable, before she gave a tight smile. Katara found it hard to believe that Zuko wouldn’t have told Mai about her arrival, to be honest, but that was apparently the case.

“Well congratulations—that sounds exciting.”

Katara reached up and pushed her hair behind her hair. “We’ll see—Zuko’s job doesn’t look half as glamorous as it sounds, so not sure mine will be either.”

“No kidding,” Mai replied, then she gestured up to the palace. “I’m about to head up for dinner, why don’t you come?”

“I couldn’t possibly,” she said. “Zuko’s so busy, you probably don’t get enough time alone as it is.”

“He tries,” Mai said.

Katara could commiserate with Mai’s strained response, which honestly—felt a little bizarre since Mai was his _girlfriend_. “Well, anyways-,” She was blushing, which felt stupid. “I’m sure you know your way around here pretty well, maybe you could show me around sometime?”

“Definitely,” Mai said, lip turning up slightly. “Showing an ambassador around would probably get me out of a bunch of dumb parties.”

“Well, I’m here to serve,” Katara replied with a small laugh.

Mai gave her a nod goodbye and headed past her into the palace. Katara scurried in the other direction and decided to steadfastly ignore any lingering questions about why Zuko would not tell his girlfriend about her arrival in the Fire Nation.

====

Zuko’s daily schedule did not have any symmetry, or neatness, or an end, really. He didn’t get to pack up and go home when the sun went down. Where he lived was where he did his job, and his job was his entire life. Sometimes at dinner he was expected to attend events, or entertain other noble families, or just pour over numbers and materials in anticipation of the next day’s meetings.

Mai understood that his schedule was hectic—their relationship never had the problem of her not being understanding. She pretended _nothing_ bothered her, which of course presented its own issues.

She was a little late today for some reason. Their food had been put out, two plates on such a massive table it almost looked silly. He was reviewing some scrolls when she came in, but quickly put them down when she walked closer.

“Sorry I’m late,” she said, sitting down right away, rather than greeting him. That didn’t bode well, of course, and he hesitated rather than speak.

Mai forged ahead before he could get his thoughts together. “How was your day?” she asked.

He just made a defeated sound and rubbed his brow—other than his advisors being generally tolerable to Katara during her first meeting, his day had been a parade of disasters.

She was probably used to that response by now—the last thing he wanted after the end of a long day was to talk more about how difficult everything was, and it’s the last thing Mai wanted either, to hear about politics. It made their dinner conversation not…terribly lively.

“I saw Katara on my way here,” she remarked, when he stupidly did not continue the conversation. 

He froze before looking up and clearing his throat. “Oh, uh, yes, I forgot to mention-,”

“That she’s the new ambassador,” Mai finished—not even cocking an eyebrow, though they’d been together (off and on) long enough for him to know she was upset. 

“Right, yes,” he said. “She volunteered herself when I was in the South Pole a few months ago.”

Mai said nothing, continuing to pick at her food. A pang of guilt shot through him.

“I meant to tell you.” 

“It can’t have been that hard,” she said mildly. 

He exhaled sharply. “This—this isn’t something to be upset about, Mai.”

Mai shrugged. “I don’t think you just _forgot_ one of your closest friends was moving here.”

“Do you have a problem with her?” Zuko asked, brow furrowed. 

“No, I just wonder why you felt the need to hide it,” she said, putting her hands in her lap and straightening further. 

He frowned. “I was not _hiding_ anything-,”

“Omitting, whatever,” she interjected with a wave of her hand, then she looked down. “Sometimes I just feel like a fucking fixture for you to deflect people pestering you about marriage, not your _actual_ girlfriend.”

His eyes snapped up—that hurt, the accuracy of it, what an awful boyfriend that made him. Awful _person_.

“I don’t want you to feel that way,” he murmured. “I’m sorry.”

Mai sighed, normally straight shoulders slumping. “It’s fine, Zuko—I know you weren’t intentionally hiding anything.”

He wasn’t. Or he didn’t think he was. He’d _like_ to think he wasn’t, though the opportunity had arisen a few times in conversation with Mai, and he’d—just let it pass by. Though they let a lot of things they should talk about pass by. Honestly, he and Mai had their own problems, and he had so little time on his hands already—well, it was better to not think about his personal life at all. 

As was often the case nowadays, they finished dinner in silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter might be massive, I really can't decide--there would be a lot going on if I put it all together, which means it may be better to split up, but I hate making those of you hanging in there with this disaster wait!! 
> 
> Anyways thanks as always for the wonderful messages and support :)


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just flagging there are mentions of injuries/blood in this chapter!

The first few weeks were hard for Katara, there was no doubt about that.

Being an ambassador was a decidedly academic pursuit, and there were not exactly many full time scholars for her to have observed among the Southern Water Tribe considering the state of the village during the war. She had the bedrock skills: knew how to work hard, concentrate, retain information, but pouring over the masses of correspondence and reports that crossed her desk was new and—and difficult. Most days, she just hoped that she retained _any_ information at all about what she heard or read.

It didn’t help that she had a lot of catching up to do. Understanding current events _and_ how the Fire Nation worked in the first place.

Zuko was obviously supportive, but she didn’t want to be coddled, or treated as a favorite—she was used to that after being the _Avatar’s girlfriend_ for almost a year, and she wanted to stand on her own merits and not persuade based on friendship.

Otherwise, she was warming up to the Fire Nation, as the weather got warmer too. In her nightmares as a child, she imagined the Fire Nation capital as a barren island made of crumbling, black rock, rivers of magma streaming into a stormy sea.

It was—obviously not that. The island was lush, the water stunning—one her favorite things to do was walk to the edge of the caldera and watch the waves and trees pushed by the wind, the ocean sparkling below.

She also liked mangoes. _Really_ liked mangoes. She’d hacked her first whole one to pieces trying to get the pit out, but once she got the hang of it she devoured them on a daily basis. Maybe to sate her hunger after being able to hardly stomach the other more spicy food of the Fire Nation, but it was a happy substitute for her.

Zuko told her that she could ask the palace staff for as many mangoes as she wanted, and they would deliver them, but that entire concept still felt foreign to her. She had a hard enough time not washing her own clothes or replacing her sheets—finding her own food felt like the least she could do.

So she sourced her mangoes herself, from the fruit stands near the harbor. It was a long walk, but she didn’t mind it, and seeing new parts of the Fire Nation was better than being stuck in her room reading about them.

She frequented a vender named Mariko—she was a brusque woman, but had taken the time to show Katara how to find the most ripe fruit after she had squeezed them relentlessly one morning trying to figure that out. She had a daughter, Emi, who often helped her, and Katara would offer her extra coppers to cut up one for her for the long walk back to the palace.

A few weeks into her ambassadorship, on a balmy morning before a busy day at the palace, Katara went on a mango run only to find Emi alone at her stand.

“Where’s your mother today?” Katara asked the girl.

Her dark hair popped up over the pile of mangoes—she was nine or ten but small for her age and could barely see over the display.

“I’m in charge this morning,” she said, with a smug look.

Katara had put aside four or five mangoes, but considered getting more before she looked up. “You are? Going to give me a good price then?”

Emi gave a toothy smile. “If you smuggle me into the palace to meet the Fire Lord maybe.”

“I’m way cooler, I promise,” Katara replied.

Emi laughed, and Katara gave her a handful of coins, including a full silver, since the girl had complained yesterday that she was wearing through the soles of her shoes—it was the least she could do considering that money wasn’t really an object for her anymore with friends like the Fire Lord.

Emi had a stool that she sat on behind the stand, where she’d drag her little paring knife across the reddish yellow skin of a mango with practiced precision. She was almost through with Katara’s, in record time, when someone dropped a heavy crate nearby that startled her—she lost focus and her knife skimmed the fleshy part of her palm, eliciting a yelp from her.

She dropped the mango into the dirt and grabbed her palm. “Ow-,”

Katara hurried over to her, dragging her water skin around her waist to her front.

“Let me see,” she said, as she knelt down and took Emi’s palm into her own hands.

Not a bad cut, though Emi’s lips were trembling and she looked ready to cry. Katara coaxed from water from her water skin and over the wound.

Emi’s eyes were wide, reflecting the glowing blue between them, before Katara pulled the water away.

“All better,” Katara said with a smile.

Emi yanked her hand away, looking aghast at her own palm, then back at her. Katara was concerned for a moment she’d be—disgusted, or scared, she wondered if she shouldn’t have used her bending down here.

“That is _so_ cool,” Emi said.

Katara leaned back on her heels, grin widening, out of relief really, but the next thing she knew someone else was rounding the stand and grabbing her elbow.

It was an older woman, dark hair tinged with gray—she was tall, and had strong rough hands that dragged her closer.

“What did you just do?” she asked.

Katara tried to wiggle from her grasp but was unsuccessful. “I-I’m a waterbender, I just healed her-,”

“Come with me.”

The woman yanked her into the narrow street, leaving Emi and her mangoes behind. Katara dug her heels into the dirt to little avail, and the woman spoke to her again in a brusque tone.

“How well does it work? The healing?”

They stopped down the road at a slightly dilapidated building, though most of this part of town was rundown, and Katara stepped back when the woman released her tight grip.

“It—uh, depends on the severity of the injury, how much time has passed-,”

The woman opened the door and ushered her inside. “Best hurry then.”

When they stepped further in, Katara understood—this was a hospital, or an attempt at one anyway. It was sparsely furnished, just a row of cots and some modest supplies, including one man languishing, unconscious, on the bed roll closest to them, blood soaked rags across his stomach.

“You’ll try to help,” the woman said—it wasn’t really a question. “Hope you’re not squeamish.”

While Katara did not appreciate being dragged down the road without explanation, she understood the urgency and would happily use her skills to help someone else—it might feel rewarding, even, as she sometimes felt she was doing little good at the palace.

“Of course,” Katara said.

It was another puncture wound—an accident on one of the ships docked in the harbor. Katara was _not_ squeamish, through her nose did crinkle, jaw clenched, when she peeled back the bandages covering the cut. This was obviously a tougher endeavor than Emi’s little nick on her palm, but she had not practiced her bending this morning and felt strong.

She drew water out of her water skin again, blue glowing in the shadowy room. It took a couple of tries, but she managed to stop the bleeding, though she couldn’t replace all that had already been lost.

The woman who had dragged her to the hospital kept a close eye on her, peering over her shoulder, and when Katara withdrew her hands for the last time, she stepped back.

“He may still be out for a while,” Katara said. “But he should rest anyway.” 

The woman crossed her arms, not looking all that grateful. “You’re from a water tribe?”

“Yes, in the South Pole,” she replied. “My name is Katara.”

The woman straightened, scrutinizing her, before she spoke. “Kaida,” she said, already turning away to circle her patient, gathering up the bloodied bandages they no longer needed.

Kaida pointed across the room to a bowl, shaking her finger for emphasis when Katara didn’t understand at first.

“What are you doing here in the Fire Nation?” she asked, as Katara hurried across the room to fetch what she wanted.

“I’m the ambassador from the Southern Water Tribe,” Katara replied. 

“You’re _that_ waterbender?” she began incredulously. 

She handed her the bowl. “What does that mean?”

“You know, the war, the Avatar’s girlfriend-,”

“I’m _not_ his girlfriend,” Katara interjected, probably harsher than she needed to be.

Kaida held up both hands in a placating gesture. “Don’t get all riled up, that’s just what I hear.”

“We haven’t been together for a long time,” she said, still frowning. “I live here now.”

Kaida gave a snort. “Not _here_ , girl, you live in the palace.”

She sensed disdain in the woman’s tone, and Katara didn’t know how to convey that she wasn’t some spoiled noble living out her days in luxury, though maybe that _was_ what she was doing.

“I’m down here now helping you, aren’t I?”

Kaida narrowed her eyes slightly, and then resumed what she was doing. “Might let you come back, if you can stomach it,” she said. “We don’t have the coin of the other hospitals in the caldera. Could use the help.” 

Gratitude was beyond this woman, which Katara didn’t mind since she apparently found a little grumpiness endearing. She smiled slightly. “I can come in the mornings. To help heal.”

Kaida did not smile back, though the severe set of her jaw did soften slightly. “I can’t pay you.”

“That’s okay.”

“What you see down here—it won’t be pretty, either.”

“I understand.”

Kaida brought her bowl to her side and then walked to the other side of the room. “See you tomorrow.”

“It was nice to meet you,” Katara called after her, almost fleetingly, because Kaida just raised her hand in a half wave.

Katara checked on the man she had healed one last time—still in a deep sleep, and then poked around for just a few minutes. It was a bleak hospital, though not the worse she’d seen during the war, when supplies were low and injuries abounded.

People were tightly packed in the town near the harbor, and yet this hospital seemed small, unequipped. Katara watched a few people come and go, receiving medicine or supplies from Kaida—she did not accept money in exchange for any of them, which was perhaps exasperating her issues, that she was healing people who had little money for their own health.

Katara wanted to help, though she loathed the idea that as a woman healing was all she was good for. There was no doubt she had a gift, one that could help people, in a place where there was so little help being offered. But that could not be the only thing that defined her. She didn’t quite know what _else_ defined her yet, but she’d figure it out. And it definitely wasn’t going to be the fucking Avatar.

====

Katara went every morning that week to the hospital—she had yet to earn a _hello_ or _good morning_ from Kaida. Most days, the woman unceremoniously plonked her down in front of a patient in need, and if they didn’t have patients, they were cleaning. For all her lack of supplies, Kaida was meticulous, efficient, extremely competent, though when Katara complimented her, she just grunted.

There were a lot of people that needed help, and Katara’s healing could not save them all. Some arrived too late for her to do anything, some injuries were beyond even her bending—disheartening, obviously, but not anything she hadn’t seen before, when she’d been at home, or even among the refugees in the Earth Kingdom.

It was rewarding, in its own way, but she found herself daily wishing that she could fix this problem at its source, rather than reacting.

The first obstacle of course was the disorganization—Kaida’s rustic little hospital was one of a handful dotted outside the caldera catering to people of the lower classes. There was no money, property or infrastructure for a real outpost like the one closer to the palace. Katara could see the need for a centralized, dedicated building to healing efforts that was more easily accessible by people who were not noble-born, but that seemed like a big ask considering Kaida and the others couldn’t even get the supplies they needed. 

This new endeavor could not occupy all her time, though, and she still had to keep up with meetings and reports and negotiations. Her new work only put into sharp contrast how lavishly Zuko’s advisors, and herself, frankly, lived—discussing problems that seemed remote but were in fact impacting the everyday lives of regular people. 

She met Zuko one night for dinner after a long day. She didn’t always, but he had promised they would go over a few items related to the Southern Reconstruction Project that evening.

When she slipped into the dining room, Zuko was there, a few scrolls scattered around him.

“Hi,” she said, as the door shut behind her. There were only two plates laid out and she furrowed her brow. “Is Mai coming?”

He looked up, eyes widening slightly before clearing his throat. “No, she, uh—had something to do.”

That was an evasive response, but Katara didn’t press. For all she knew they were better than ever. It was hard to tell given how furtive both were with their emotions, certainly Mai. Though she had turned silent suffering into a sport in her own relationship, so maybe things weren’t as good as they seemed.

Katara slid her plate over to the spot next to him—the table was disconcerting large, especially with just the two of them.

“Got a letter from Sokka today,” she remarked once she was settled beside him. “He’s coming early for the summit to see Suki, of course, and I think after they’re going to Kyoshi Island.”

“For what?” he asked, pushing all his scrolls out of the way with one hand.

“It’s called a vacation, Zuko, perhaps you’ve heard of it?”

“You sound like Uncle,” he muttered.

She raised an eyebrow. “Spirits forbid we want you to get some rest.”

“You seem just as busy,” Zuko countered. “My guards see you leaving the palace every morning.”

“Oh so you’re having me _followed_?”

He flushed red. “Of course not,” he replied defensively. “It’s just—a precaution, you know. People could—they could very well try to hurt you.”

“I can take care of myself,” Katara said, half-teasing, though he hardly ever realized it. “And if you’re so concerned, I’ve just been going to the hospital by the harbor to heal, nothing nefarious.”

“You can go wherever you want,” he insisted. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

She looked down at her plate for a moment, hand rising to push her hair out of the way. “I wish I could help them more,” she said. “I can’t always be there and—I mean, they’re very low on supplies.”

“It’s kind of you to help at all,” he said.

Katara hesitated, but lifted her gaze and watched him chewing thoughtfully for a moment. “Could you…possibly help?”

Zuko cleared his throat after he swallowed. “Oh, well, the annual budget is set for the whole year, including any hospital subsidies,” he said. “But—I can try to see if I can move some coin around. You know that Dai can get—testy, though.”

Dai was the senior-most finance minister in the Fire Nation—held the purse strings and held them _tight_. He had never been much of an Ozai supporter, but turns out that isn’t the only quality that made someone an asshole, and Dai had all the others. His fellow advisors crowed about his mathematical prowess and sound policies, but he clearly favored Fire Nation programs specifically for the nobility which Katara did not find particularly charming. And while Katara gladly railed against the various state of things in the Fire Nation to Zuko, making an enemy so early out of one of his advisors seemed risky.

“I understand,” Katara said. 

She looked down at her plate, trying not to seem too disappointed. She didn’t know why she thought that she could just ask for whatever she wanted and receive it. It was an unfair and arrogant assumption, but at least she was trying to help.

And it’s not as if she was asking Zuko to favor Kaida’s clinic over the others in the capital; she had seen the one around the palace catering to the nobility—it was _exceedingly_ extravagant and allocated a massive amount of coin from the budget while the rest of the Fire Nation citizens were expected to flounder and suffer.

She did not hide her crestfallen expression well, pushing her spicy food around her plate, because Zuko spoke quickly.

“We are—doing the budget for the new year in a few months,” he said. “I promise to do everything I can to get your friend more help.”

 _People will die until then_ , was all Katara could think—not because they should, or because they were really hurt, but just because they didn’t have enough help.

Still, that was not Zuko’s fault, so she gave him a small smile. “Thanks, I really appreciate it.”

They ate in relative silence after, in that massive room, which she kind of hated—the size was overwhelming. When had she ever eaten with Zuko like this? Why couldn’t they just sit side by side near a fire, like old times, reprimanding Sokka for how many dumplings he put in his mouth while everyone else roared with laughter?

Now she was—was scraping her chopsticks across her barely-touched dinner, on a plate inlaid with _gold_. How much was this thing worth? The whole set, really, because there were four different plates and who knew how many copies scattered around the palace and its _multiple_ dining rooms. Who was all this for and why did they even need it? 

She pitied Zuko for a moment, when she looked up at him. He had no idea what he was in for, inviting her here and letting her be an ambassador. She didn’t just want to quibble over trade routes or reconstruction plans or reparations—she wanted to change it all.

====

Katara had nightmares—bad ones—in the months after the war ended. Aang would be startled awake by her whimpers at night, or screams even, and then she’d bolt up, slick with sweat and trembling. She could not shake them, no matter how many times she told herself that the danger was past, that she had nothing to be afraid of anymore.

Only time healed them, their intensity, but never completely. She’d sail along, sleeping soundly for months, and then suddenly the ground would open up below her, swallow her, sending her spiraling back into the fear and darkness of that time.

It was never Ozai that struck fear in her, honestly, though she knew dreams of him had plagued Aang. Not Yon Rha, either, because she no longer felt powerless when she thought of him.

Azula haunted her, and she didn’t know why. Maybe it was because they were the same age, because she’d accomplished so much under the banner of her father, and she was powerful—it radiated off of her, crackled around her. Katara was confident in her skills, but she won the Agni Kai because Azula had slipped.

In Katara’s dreams, she didn’t slip. She never lost.

Her worst nightmare was short. Terrifying. She and Azula were facing off under a blazing hot sun, and when Katara went to draw water out of her water skin, only blue flames burst out, engulfing her. Azula would laugh, grating and condescending, and then grab her by the neck, singing her skin.

Her body would flail desperately, she’d search for water, but only find flame and the blood pulsing in their ears. She’d be dying, and a tiny voice would whisper _you could bloodbend-_

She woke up with a scream.

Her hair was matted with sweat, eyes burning against the sudden light in the room. Her hand clasped her neck, skin smooth, yet somehow she could still feel the intense heat from Azula’s hands.

“Katara!”

The door opened, more light falling across her bed. It was Zuko—he must have heard her and burst in.

“Katara,” he said again, closer this time. There was a slight tremor in his voice—he was worried, which was silly, how over-protective he could be.

She’d caught her breath enough to speak. “W-What are you doing here?”

“We were supposed to meet Toph by the docks,” he said. “I came to get you and—and I heard you scream. Are you okay?”

That explained all the light in her room from the window—she’d slept well past sunrise after a long night working.

“Spirits, I’m sorry, I forgot,” she said, then threw the covers off her to stand.

Zuko rushed forward and grabbed her shoulders, holding her down which was probably good because turning so quickly had made her woozy.

“There’s no rush,” he said. “Just—sit here for a moment, we’ll be fine.”

He released her and she reluctantly sat back. Her hand was trembling as she wiped the sweat off her forehead.

“It was just a nightmare,” she said, when she looked up and saw the look of deep concern on his face.

“I’m sorry,” he replied.

Katara rubbed her face again, then let her fingers rake back into her hair. It was an absolute _mess_ and sticky with sweat at the roots.

She sighed. “I’ll be fine,” she said. “I’m sure you’re no stranger to them.”

“Yes,” he admitted. “So I know that sometimes it’s not fine.”

She _wanted_ it to be okay, but he was right it didn’t feel like it. She swallowed roughly, her throat bone dry. Her thoughts, her body were—scattered, like a broken porcelain doll glued back together but threatening to break apart again.

Zuko gently touched her hand—his were warm, always _warm_ , which terrified her in this moment, but instead of withdrawing she squeezed his hand tight, probably too hard, crushing it. The fire at his fingertips did not define him, he would never hurt her and Azula _couldn’t_ anymore.

If she was causing him any pain, he didn’t make a sound. “Whatever it was, it’s not real,” he said. “Or if you’re scared, I can—help you.”

It had been real, once, and he could not help her.

“I’m alright, I promise,” she rasped.

Despite her assurances, she was still trapping his hand in her trembling grip, probably cutting off his circulation. His brow drew in, lips pursed.

“I would never—Katara, I wouldn’t hurt you again.”

She lifted her eyes to him. “I don’t have nightmares about you.”

“Anymore, maybe.”

Katara hated the miserable frown on his face, the slumped set of his shoulders. It was true he chased her in her nightmares once, but that had felt like a lifetime ago.

“You’re so dramatic, you know,” she said, then gently touched his scar, running her thumb along the edge of it. 

He flushed red. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-,”

“It’s fine, Zuko.”

He turned in his head in the opposite direction of her hand, so she let her arm fall between them.

“Are you okay?” he asked. “Really?” 

Katara gave a weak smile. “I am, I promise,” she said, then pulled the covers off her again, forcing him to lean back. “Plus we have to go, if we don’t meet Toph, we’ll never hear the end of it.”

Zuko relented, standing while she put her feet on the smooth floor and stood next to him.

“I just need to change clothes,” Katara said, as she picked up her dress from the chair beside her bed.

Zuko nodded, but did not move—he wasn’t looking at her, was lost in thought or something, not that if he was it would be a problem because her sleeping clothes were modest. She thought he’d get the message and give her some privacy, but when he didn’t, she raised the dress in her hand. 

“So…you should probably go?”

He straightened, eyes widening slightly. “Oh, yes—y-yep,” he stammered. “I didn’t—I wasn’t-,” He’d begun shuffling to the door, backwards, and ran into the dresser behind him on accident, clattering the bottles on top of it.

“Sorry, sorry,” he blurted out, red-faced and reaching out to steady the dresser. “I’ll—I’ll go.”

Zuko fled out the door and slammed it behind him. She smiled slightly; his bumbling was endearing, despite how much he hated it. He’d made her feel better, at least, and for some reason she found herself wishing he could be there every time she had a nightmare. 

====

Katara emerged from her room, hair tamed and changed into her dress, and Zuko continued blushing profusely as they headed out of the palace. He’d been so trapped by his own guilty feelings in her room that she thought he was some kind of creep, when in reality he hadn’t even considered her standing there and instead was utterly forlorn at the idea that her nightmares were once of _him_.

It made him sick, to think he caused such fear and despair in someone he—cared about so much. Though the guilt lingered, he stamped it out the best he could. He’d already selfishly let himself be overwhelmed when he should have comforted her, there was no reason to cling to it all day. 

Once they were outside the palace, Zuko fastened his cloak around him and pulled his hood over his hair. Katara watched him, lips slightly thin.

“Are you sure we shouldn’t bring any guards along?” she asked.

He grunted. “Don’t tell me they got to you, too,” he said. “I don’t need protection all the time.” 

“People _have_ been trying to kill you,” she replied.

He waved his hand dismissively. “That’s just part of being Fire Lord.”

“Five attempts is a little excessive,” Katara insisted.

He said nothing, but the muscle in his jaw did twitch.

She frowned. “Is it more than five?”

“What does it matter?” he muttered.

Katara made an exasperated sound. “Who are these people, Zuko? Why do they want you dead so badly?”

“Well some aren’t _huge_ fans of my reforms or the fact that I’ve offered to send money to places that aren’t the Fire Nation,” he said, then let out a sigh. “We know more, now. They’re called the New Ozai Society.”

“That’s a little on the nose,” Katara said.

Zuko shrugged one shoulder. “Yes, well, seeing as I am not Ozai, or anything like him, they’d prefer that I just die and be replaced.”

“Surely this group can’t be that large,” she said.

“I’m not sure. I—wish we knew more, but I suspect its members are being protected by some-,” He frowned. “Particularly powerful noble families.”

She nudged him. “Well you have a particularly powerful waterbender on your side, so you don’t have to worry.”

Katara always seemed to put him in a better mood, and he smiled slightly under his hood. He truly did feel sorry for anyone who would try to kill him in front of her. He knew what Katara would do for the people she cared about, him once having been a person who who tried to hurt those people.

They made good time to the harbor, at Katara’s insistence, and reached Toph’s ship just as she disembarked. As always, Toph looked slightly nauseous and out of sorts—she hated boats—but once her bare feet hit the ground at the end of the dock, her outlook greatly improved.

Toph walked over to them both with a crooked grin.

“Hope you two don’t mind me crashing all your fun here in the Fire Nation.”

Katara smiled. “We’re so glad you’re here.”

Toph turned to him. “Is that right, Sparky? Are you happy to see me?”

“Of course,” Zuko said. “I’m always glad for your visits.”

He reached out to hug her, but she stopped him with her small hands in the crooks of his elbows.

“No thank you, hot pants, I want a Katara hug.”

 _Hot pants_? Really?

He ignored her ludicrous nickname and tried to step back slightly—she held fast to him. “You want a hug from Katara?” he asked.

Toph yanked him closer. “No, I want a hug from _you_ like the way _you_ hug Katara,” she said. “You know, really _long_ , and you squeeze really tight or pick her up-,”

Zuko hastily hugged her and hoisted her off the ground—she was a lot shorter than Katara so she was really dangling, and he was frankly hoping to squeeze the air out of her lungs for a few moments so she’d _shut up_.

He unceremoniously dropped her back to the ground. “Happy?” he asked.

Toph grinned and rocked back on her heels. “Very.”

Katara was gracious enough to look unperturbed by Toph’s teasing, or maybe she wasn’t paying attention, and gave the earthbender a fierce hug once Zuko stepped back.

“How are your students?” Katara asked.

Toph grabbed Zuko’s arm as they headed down the dock. “You know I have a sneaking suspicion they liked you more than me,” she said.

“Oh please, they worship you,” Katara said with a laugh. “You just also terrorize them a little.”

Toph scoffed. “You can’t learn metalbending sitting in a circle talking about your feelings.”

She smiled slightly and grabbed Toph’s free arm. “I missed you, you’re such a prickly little earthbender.”

“Not little, I grew _half an inch_ last year, thank you very much,” Toph said after giving a huff. 

Zuko smirked and patted the top of her head to add insult to injury, which earned him a punch in the arm after she dropped her grip on him.

“Watch it, Sparky,” she said. “Don’t forget I know all your secrets.”

His heart quickened at that, which only made Toph cackle manically while Katara rolled her eyes. He was going to sputter back that he didn’t have any _secrets_ , didn’t have anything to hide, among friends.

He didn’t, though. Toph would know he was lying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to everyone who has commented so far, it truly makes my day :)


	11. Chapter 11

Zuko met Mai for tea the afternoon after Toph arrived. They hadn’t spent much time together in the past few days, or week, actually, and though his schedule could hardly permit it with everything going on, he wanted to make an effort, despite his gnawing guilt that he wasn’t—necessarily longing to see her.

She was in his private sitting room, the tea cup she’d set across from her not steaming much, which exacerbated the guilt in his gut because she’d been waiting for a while.

He sat at the table with an apologetic look. “I’m sorry I couldn’t meet you earlier—things with the summit, you know.”

“I know,” she said with a little smile, always forgiving.

“Everyone will be at dinner tonight, if you want to come,” he said. 

She was looking down at her cup like there was something utterly fascinating about it. “I’m sure you’d much rather see your friends.”

His brow furrowed, and he instinctively reached out to grab her hand because he doubted his words would be much comfort.

“No, of course not, Mai.”

A quiet, exasperated sound left her, and she leaned back. “I—shouldn’t have said that.”

Mai had slipped from his grasp, and he lifted his hand, elbow still on the table. He sighed. “You can just talk to me, you know. You don’t have to make— _comments_ and then pretend everything’s fine.”

She was staring down at her tea again, knuckles white around the delicate handle of the cup.

“I’m not stupid, Zuko,” she finally said. “The conversation will not end well, it never does.”

“If you won’t even tell me what’s wrong-,”

“You _know_ what’s wrong,” she interjected, tone sharper. “We both keep staying because it’s easy, but nothing gets better.”

He hated how angry she sounded, how hurt. “Mai, I—I think we’re okay.”

Her face twisted into a bitter expression. “Oh well thank you, I am so happy our relationship is _okay_.”

“I don’t know what you want,” he said defensively. “You keep avoiding me, of course it’s only okay.”

“Avoiding you?” she began, a small slash between her brow. “Is that what you call it when I’m not always around at the _precise_ moment in the day when you deign to do something other than be the Fire Lord?”

“I try as hard as I can to make time for us,” he protested.

“But why?” she asked. “Why— _us_ , Zuko?”

“What are you asking—why we’re together?” he began incredulously. “Do you not believe me when I tell you I love you?”

She met his gaze, jaw clenched. “We are together because you were lonely and stressed and your council told you that you needed a Fire Nation noble for a wife, so you found yourself a solution. Me.”

“That is _not_ true-,”

Mai flung her hand out slightly. “And now you’re not lonely anymore, because of this summit and—and _Katara_ , so what do you need me for?”

He hated that they were arguing, like always, and also that this all felt true—what sent his heart beating and his blood boiling, so defensive because she was right and that made him _awful_.

“Mai, I do need you-,”

“I’m tired of your lies, you know,” she said with a frown. 

“How is this different than what you’re doing?” he demanded. “Your parents leave you alone when you’re with me, but do you really want to be Fire Lady?”

Mai averted her gaze. “We don’t have to think about that now.”

“But you know the answer!” he replied exasperatedly. “ _You_ know you’d be miserable, _I_ know you’d be miserable-,” 

“I love you, don’t I?” she interjected. “Isn’t that enough?”

“I don’t know, Mai, is it?” he began, then ran his hand through his hair. “Because honestly that’s—that is a _lot_ of pressure for me to make you miserable as Fire Lady and hope that the rest is—worth it.” 

“So what do we do then?” she asked, lips pursed.

He sighed again because he didn’t know what to tell her—this thought had plagued him, what to do, because their problems were not easy to ignore. Sometimes he had clarity, courage, and then hours later, it was gone, like ice melting through his fingers.

“Just—tell me what will make you happy, and I’ll do it,” he said. “But I am the Fire Lord, and I can’t change that.”

She frowned, shoulders tense—he knew that meant she was trying hard to trap her emotions.

“I think you’ve very well decided this won’t work,” she said, voice quivering slightly. 

“I swear I have not given up,” Zuko insisted. “I’m just asking you—the same thing you’re asking me.”

She was quiet, eyes trailing down, glassy in the bright light from the window. She crossed her arms. 

“Of course I don’t want to be the fucking Fire Lady, Zuko.”

He leaned back in his chair, arms falling from the table into his lap. Obviously he could not blame her for not wanting to share that life with him. It was demanding and thankless and the only thing that kept his head above water was knowing just how important it was he change the Fire Nation from the place his father had created. Mai didn’t have passion for that, just passion for him, but that was a recipe for disaster, not a happy life.

“You don’t have to live in a place you hate, doing a job you hate, just to be with me,” he said. 

She nodded briskly, trying to hold back years, so Zuko stood. She pushed herself up and hugged him, squeezing tight. 

“I’m so sorry, Mai,” he whispered hoarsely. “For the things I did that hurt you.”

She separated from him and cleared her throat. “I’m going to visit Ty Lee for a while, on Kyoshi Island,” she said. “That’s why I came here today. I was going to tell you that I was unhappy and that we needed to think about whether our relationship could work while I was gone. Sort of dramatic, I guess.”

“I don’t blame you,” he said.

“You were more honest than I thought today,” she replied. “I guess I can go to the Earth Kingdom with a clear conscious. And no boyfriend.”

His brow furrowed. “I’m sorry if I—if you didn’t-,” 

“It’s fine,” she insisted, briefly squeezing his shoulder. “It’s better. Well, it feels kind of shit right now, but I think it will get better.”

“I hope so,” he said, for both their sakes.

“Goodbye, Zuko,” she said, then gave him another tight smile before clasping her hands together under her long sleeves and hurrying out of the room.

He collapsed back in his chair when she was gone, his robes suddenly heavy, hot—he wanted to rip them all off because _Fire Lord Zuko_ had successfully ruined another relationship, and for what? Every time he felt like he took one step forward for this country, weeks later something happened that pushed them ten steps back.

He’d at least like to be good at his job, if he was going to be desperately lonely otherwise. That would be a worthy sacrifice, instead of this pathetic fumbling in all aspects of his life.

His friends would certainly have plenty to say about his negative spiral, so he stood and straightened his robe, out the door for his next meeting and determined to pretend everything was fine. 

====

It was a busy afternoon and then a sleepless night—the next day was the big event for the third anniversary of the war, and Zuko felt like he was being pulled in eight directions, when he just wanted to crawl into bed with his pillow over his head. That was unfortunately not an option, and he didn’t want to be pitied, so he pushed through and saved his moping for the few hours he was supposed to sleep.

He rose early, at the first hint of sunrise. It was quiet in the courtyard, and chilly, given the time of year. There was a light coating of dew on the grass as he crossed it, so he sat on a bench rather than on the edge of the turtleduck pond to avoid saturating his clothes. It probably didn’t matter since he wasn’t wearing his normal regalia anyway, but he’d been known to spend too much time here in the mornings and rush to meetings without much time to change. 

The turtleducks spotted Zuko when he sat and immediately swam to him, tails wiggling and leaving little waves in their wake. The mother was always the most hesitant among them, hanging back for a few seconds, until he’d offered a few bits of food to entice her. He reached into his bowl and tossed a few berries, letting them plop in the water, which was followed by little splashes as they stuck their beaks in after them and gobbled them up.

He heard footsteps beside him and frowned slightly with his eyes on the pond—people knew not to bother him this early, but when he turned he spotted Katara.

“Why are you awake so early?” he asked.

She crossed through the grass. “I couldn’t sleep,” she said, then looked at the turtleducks. “What are you doing?”

He did not ask whether another nightmare had wrested her from sleep and lifted the bowl in his palms a few inches. “They like these berries.”

Katara rubbed one arm and inched closer. “Could I join you?”

“Of course,” he said.

She settled down beside him, and they sat in silence before she reached out and took a handful of berries in her hand.

“May I?” she asked.

He only nodded.

She tossed a few of them into the water, settling off another splashing frenzy. She looked down and inspected the rest in her palm. “You cut them in half?”

“These…little idiots will swallow whole anything they think is food,” he said. “I don’t want to risk them choking.”

If she thought that was stupid she didn’t say, just smiled slightly and tossed the rest, this time closer to the edge of the pond, including some that rolled on the ground rather than landing in the water. A few intrepid turtleducks waddled out of the water to get to them.

“Spirits, they’re too cute,” she muttered. She knelt down slightly off the bench, hand outstretched, but the turtleducks skirted off. 

Katara’s brow puckered in disappointment. “They don’t like me.”

They were not used to her, is all. Zuko tossed a few of the berries on the grass, and the turtleducks, short memory that they had, gladly rushed back over to eat them, including one of the little babies.

He dropped a few more, closer to his feet, and then put the back of his hand flat against the ground with a few more in his palm. The baby stumbled over onto his hand to eat.

“Here,” he said, as he carefully raised his arm and offered the baby to her once it was safely on his palm.

She gently rubbed its little head for a few moments, before he lowered it back down to its mother.

“Showing off baby turtleducks,” she murmured. “You are a heartbreaker, Zuko.” 

He straightened and sighed. “I think Mai would agree with that.”

Zuko immediately regretted saying that, but he couldn’t exactly take it back, so he just looked down with a flush up to his ears. Katara was quiet for a moment, before she turned and rested her elbow along the back of the bench.

“Did something happen?”

He rubbed his neck. “We’ve been on and off the past year and a half, but I think it’s—over now.” 

“I’m really sorry, Zuko,” she said.

He shook his head. “It was better for her,” he said quietly. “I was kind of awful.”

“I’m sure that’s not true.”

Zuko ran his hand through his hair. He knew that Katara had told him everything about her and Aang, but he wasn’t sure he could do the same, given how unflattering his behavior was.

“I’m not trying to pry,” Katara said hastily, when he didn’t speak.

“No, it’s—fine. I just-,” He cleared his throat, elbows rested on his knees. “I was kind of a shit boyfriend.”

Katara tilted her head so her cheek was rested in her palm. “I know what that’s like,” she said. “Well, being a shit girlfriend, I guess.”

“Aang was lucky to have you as long as he did,” Zuko said, looking over at her. As was often the case, he regretted the words that came out of his mouth—their _implication_ , which he rarely thought about beforehand. Aang _was_ lucky to be her boyfriend, of course, but—well, he’d sounded very passionate about it. Which didn’t matter anyway because he had never been lucky. 

She did not seem to think he made any sort of blunder and only snorted. “Yes, so lucky to be with a girl who couldn’t admit she _didn’t_ like him for ten months.”

Zuko pressed a few fingers to his chest. “I was worse, I promise.”

“Your job is so incredibly difficult,” she said. “Cut yourself some slack.”

“It’s not the job—Mai was always understanding about that,” he replied. “There was just no future in it and I-,” He rubbed his face. “It felt like a transaction sometimes. I get the Fire Sages off my back, Mai’s parents leave her alone.”

“What do the Fire Sages want?” she asked.

“Marriage,” Zuko said bitterly, then his face twisted further in discomfort. “ _Heirs_.”

“Surely that’s not as important as what you’re doing for the Fire Nation,” Katara said.

He clasped his hands together. “They think it’s so easy—just pick a girl, any girl, get married, so if any of these assassination attempts succeed, the Fire Sages retain control until my unfortunate infant child is old enough to run this country himself.”

“Zuko,” Katara began with an exasperated sound. “That’s—so relentlessly negative.”

“Well that’s what it is,” he muttered. 

She put her hand on his shoulder. “You are _not_ going to be assassinated, and you have plenty of time to—do what the Fire Sages want.”

“I know,” he said, though he thought she was being entirely too optimistic. 

Katara sighed. “And Mai will be okay—it sounds like you’ve spared her a lifetime of politics, which she would have hated.”

“I should have been honest from the start,” he said. 

She tried to smile slightly. “It’s like you didn’t learn from my mistakes at all.”

Guilt, sadness, were all churning in him, had been, all night. What he continued to do to people he cared about when he insisted he was different. He buried his face in his hands, folded over slightly onto his knees. He felt her hand move to his back, drawing slow circles with her palm.

“You know when I broke up with Aang I ate an _entire_ honey cake by myself,” she eventually said. “We could skip your speech, get one for each of us-,”

He gave a hallow snort and lifted his head. “Think Sokka will give the speech for me?”

“I’m sure he could be persuaded.”

They heard the soft patter of footsteps, and Zuko peered around his shoulder in time to see Toph walking towards them. Katara dropped her hand as he straightened.

“Sokka owes me three coppers, I knew I’d find you together,” Toph remarked when she was close enough. “Should have bet him gold, to be honest.”

“Good morning to you, too, Toph,” Katara replied, apparently unfazed by her relentless teasing.

Toph clenched her fist and smacked it into her open palm. “So who’s ready to get fucked up during a friendly spar this morning?”

Katara stood and gave a small laugh. “Honestly, Toph, _language_.”

The earthbender raised an eyebrow. “I’m not even going to say my comeback because we all know what it is.”

“Must not be very original then,” Katara remarked with a grin.

Toph playfully swatted her, though even her playing could be a little aggressive, and Katara rounded the bench while Zuko stood.

“I’ll spar with you,” Katara said. “Zuko probably wants to practice his speech.”

“I wouldn’t call it mine—you wrote it,” he said. Another thing she wouldn’t get credit for, he supposed. 

Toph crinkled her nose. “It’s going to get mushy, isn’t it?”

“I think it’s the best one yet,” Katara replied.

Zuko nodded. “I agree.”

“Oh I’m sure you do, hot pants.”

He threw Toph a glare before looking at Katara. “Could you beat the shit out of her a little, please?”

Toph put a hand to her chest, feigning offense. “Zuko, _language_.” 

“Oh very funny,” Katara said, then ushered Toph back over to the main path in the garden. “We’ll see you at the speech, Zuko. You’re going to do great.”

Zuko just gave a weak smile to them after waving. Of all the days to stand up in front of a bunch of people, _this_ is not the one he would have chosen. Sleep-deprived and terrified of being alone forever. Just like old times, except Toph now said _fuck_ too often. Though perhaps in this case it was appropriate.

====

The seventh assassination attempt was—well, it was a disaster. Zuko’s day had been absolutely _shit_ enough, with everything going on with Mai. How he’d regretted his choice, then not regretted it, then regretted it all over again. And then universe said to him, your day’s been hard enough, but _fuck you, Zuko_.

He was taken by surprise because the previous attempts had all been in public. Likely because the New Ozai Society didn’t just want him dead—they wanted him dead in front of everyone, to show the weakness of his reign and his ideas. Otherwise the attempts were diverse; there was no doubting the creativity of his father’s supporters. They only sent a firebender once. Zuko could easily counter an attack and frankly it was hard to kill someone instantaneously with fire. Daggers, arrows, poison—those were the preferred methods that had so far been unsuccessful. 

His speech, at the summit, the one he made that Katara had written, was heavily protected by Fire Nation soldiers and the Kyoshi Warriors. The celebration of the end of the war was obviously a sore point for those who still supported Ozai, so it was a logical place to expect danger.

Things went off without a hitch, though, like they had the previous two years. It was a pleasant surprise, allowed Zuko to relax after, when he returned to the palace with everyone else. 

Which, of course, is when the trouble started.

Sokka, like his sister, loved mangos. Coupled with his ravenous appetite it felt like every few hours an attendant was delivering a bowl to him. Following Zuko’s speech was no exception because Sokka was apparently famished from sitting and watching him do all the work.

They were all in the courtyard, by the pond and—and it was all Zuko’s fault, really.

Sokka was happily enjoying the fruit delivered to him, while Zuko stood beside him at the edge of the pond. He didn’t notice the attendant who delivered Sokka’s food hovering, reaching into his robe. Instead Zuko saw a turtleduck in the grass under them, flipped over on its shell, little webbed feet flailing. He’d crouched down to gently turn it over, and then heard Katara’s voice, shrill, from behind them.

“Sokka!”

His neck snapped up immediately, and at the same time he heard a strangled sound, a low, drawn out wince. Sokka’s bowl clattered to the ground, but when he looked up, it was not Sokka who was in pain.

The mousy attendant who delivered his food was now the _dagger-wielding_ attendant, frozen in place, eyes wide.

And Katara. Stance strong, one arm out and fingers together, doing what he’d only seen once before. Bloodbending.

Zuko scrambled back a few inches and stood. The attendant had a knife that was meant for him, if he hadn’t crouched down. It was close to Sokka instead, though not anymore, because it dropped to the ground between them the longer Katara held the man in her grip.

She didn’t…stop. Didn’t stop him for just a moment and then bend some ice around him. She kept him frozen there like she wanted to say more. _Do_ more.

He’d seen that rage on her face before, of course, when they faced Yon Rha. Her whole body trembling, muscles coiled tight, those expressive eyes brimming with—with something it looked like she could hardly control.

The man wasn’t moving, but his expression was terrified—even without Katara forcing his body anywhere, it looked painful.

“K-Katara.”

It was Sokka who spoke, and she hardly reacted at first, until she clenched her hand into a fist and the man collapsed between them.

Zuko thought he was dead, honestly, but his chest rose in a shuddering breath as Sokka darted over to his sister.

He pulled Katara into his arms, holding her tight. She was not fully visible then, but Zuko could see that her eyes were glassy. Her hands receded to grip his upper arms.

“Are you alright?” she asked, voice rough. “I’m so sorry, Sokka-,”

“Sorry?” he began incredulously. “Don’t be sorry-,”

Katara hugged him again, clinging to him as tight as she could manage. They could have lost Sokka, if not for her. Because of Zuko, and this—sometimes _awful_ job. 

Sokka squirmed in his sister’s grasp eventually, though it seemed like Katara wanted to hold onto him forever. She wiped her eyes once her arms were free. Her expression was inscrutable, but Zuko knew she must be upset.

“I, um—I think I should go, for a little bit.”

Sokka furrowed his brow. “Come on, Katara, it’s okay-,”

She did not let him finish—didn’t want his platitudes, clearly—and turned to Zuko. “Could you make sure no one else tries to stab him?”

Katara may as well have ripped his heart out and stomped on it—it was _entirely_ his fault she felt this way, terror at the prospect of losing her brother, and she was probably planning on packing up all her things and sailing away from the Fire Nation forever.

“I-I am _so_ sorry-,”

Katara was especially not in the mood for his apologies and hurried past him out of the palace walls without another word.

====

Katara did not return to the palace that evening for dinner, so the rest of them ate without her. Sokka regaled the others about the afternoon—Zuko was in no mood to hear the story again. Neither was Suki, he guessed, since she probably viewed the infiltration as a failure of the Kyoshi Warriors that could have cost her boyfriend his life.

They’d essentially locked down the palace after, dragged the unconscious servant away. Everyone else was present and accounted for, but it was another awful headache, figuring out how to prevent this from happening again. More security, more precaution. He was tired of it, wanted to just root out this stupid society entirely so no one else got hurt.

Everyone was horrified about the assassination attempt—Sokka told the whole truth, which surprised Zuko, since it required admitting the methods Katara used to save them. That naturally elicited its own reactions.

“She used _bloodbending_?” Aang asked incredulously, the most affronted out of all of them.

“Only for a moment,” Sokka said, then grimaced. “Well, maybe a little more than that, but—but she just wanted to protect me.”

Aang quickly raised his hand. “I’m not trying to criticize, I just—know that she hates it.”

“Don’t know why,” Toph muttered, as she reached across the table for more wine.

Aang gave her a skeptical look. “You were there when we met Hama. How could you say that?”

“Yeah, the old lady was batshit crazy, but that doesn’t mean bloodbending is,” Toph said.

“Hama _invented_ it,” Aang replied.

Toph almost overfilled her glass. “So what, the person who invents something determines whether the action is good or not?” she began. “I invented metalbending, but that doesn’t mean people couldn’t use it for evil just because I’m awesome.”

Aang made an exasperated sound. “Katara isn’t here because she’s clearly upset that she did it.”

“That doesn’t mean she regrets saving her brother,” Suki protested. 

Sokka swallowed an overly-large bite of food. “I would hope not.”

“I’m sure she doesn’t,” Aang began, then rubbed his brow right under the tip of his blue arrow. “But she’s—I mean, shouldn’t we go looking for her?”

Sokka sighed. “Listen, don’t ever, _ever_ tell my sister I said this, but—she’s fine, really. She can take care of herself. And that’s coming from her big brother.”

“Plus she could be anywhere,” Toph said. “What are we going to do, spend the entire night searching the Caldera for her?”

Zuko had considered it. Had absolutely wanted to do it. But Toph was right that he had no idea where she was. And maybe she would not want company— _his_ company—anyway since it was all his fault.

“She’ll calm down,” Sokka said. “She always does.”

No one could disagree with that, but it was clearly still an unsettling story—they sat in silence for a few moments after, except for the sound of Toph slurping her wine and Sokka chewing with vigor.

Aang had lost his appetite and was pushing his food around his plate. He eventually looked up. “It’s not even a full moon.”

“What does that matter?” Suki asked.

“She’s—well, her and Hama, they’ve only ever done it during a full moon,” he replied.

That wasn’t true—Katara had used bloodbending on the Southern Raiders ship, and it hadn’t been a full moon then. Not even close. Though of course Zuko was not surprised she never mentioned that to the others, considering she called her actions vile that day.

He hadn’t realized bloodbending could only be done at a certain time. He and Katara never spoke of her skills again after that night, but it made sense, since waterbenders derived their power from the moon.

Except that Katara apparently wasn’t bound by those rules—could be alarmingly powerful whenever she wanted. 

Katara would hate the comparison, but her power reminded him of the ocean—dark, endless, deep, a little terrifying. More in control than fire because the ocean was predictable, tracing the same lines with its waves and currents, pushed and pulled the same way for centuries.

Zuko had been inundated at a young age with the propaganda that the Fire Nation, _firebending_ , was superior—the others weak. He’d almost drowned once though, as a child, and after that day he never believed his father’s words for a second. The current had whisked him out far and fast, waves churning around him, even the _sound_ was powerful, the rumble, the crash against the shoreline. He never forgot how powerless he felt against it. Maybe explained why he was so much more afraid of Katara than Aang when he was chasing them around the world.

“You seem quiet, Zuko,” Suki remarked from the other side of Sokka. “Are you okay?”

He was decidedly not okay, it was his worst day in a while, but he just nodded. “Thanks, Suki, I’m alright.”

“I know it’s intense,” Aang said. “You’ve probably never seen bloodbending before.”

Zuko was looking down at his plate. “Uh, no, I haven’t.”

A terrible thought occurred to him, and his eyes shot up, meeting Toph’s milky gaze, who was staring at him not for her own benefit, but his. _Liar_ , her face said, and he wanted to glare daggers at her in the hopes she’d stay quiet, but he knew that would be ineffective.

Perhaps Toph sensed the tension somehow because she did not speak, just narrowed her eyes slightly, lip upturned, and then looked down.

They ate dinner in relative silence after that, and Zuko excused himself first to review some reports, except he heard the patter of Toph’s bare feet follow him out the door.

He turned to look at her as she saddled up to him. He frowned slightly, but still thought better of being rude to her. 

“Thank you, Toph.”

“For what?” she asked.

“You didn’t—tell everyone I was lying. About Katara.”

She waved her hand dismissively. “Oh, sure,” she said. “I mean, I knew something was fishy, but your heartrate is always kind of erratic when you talk about Katara, so I wasn’t sure.”

Sometimes he hated walking around with a human lie detector because Toph cackled maniacally when his heart ironically began thumping in his chest after that. He made an annoyed sound.

“I just— _care_ , you know,” he sputtered.

“Yeah no shit,” Toph said with a snort, then she gave him a curious look. “It wasn’t _you_ , right? That she did it to, when you were lying about-,” 

“No, of course not,” Zuko interjected hastily. “Just when we were—you know, looking for Yon Rha.”

Toph nodded. “Makes sense. She does _not_ like when people fuck with her family.”

“Can’t say I understand that,” he remarked.

“Me neither,” she replied, then caged his arm around her smaller ones. “Now are you really going to read reports, or are you just going to fret over Katara?”

“I’m an excellent multitasker.”

Toph gave a short laugh at that. “Maybe you’ll squeeze in some time for brooding then, too.”

“I’ll—be fine,” he insisted. “Really. I’m not worried.”

“You’re definitely worried.”

Zuko huffed and looked down at her. “Could you just let me _lie_ in peace, please?”

“No can do, hot pants-,”

“You have _got_ to stop calling me that.” 

They had reached Zuko’s quarters and Toph released him. She cleared her throat and clumsily pushed her bangs from her face.

“Listen, I know it’s been a shitty day, so—sorry,” she muttered, then wrapped her arms around his waist and squeezed him.

He hugged her back and smiled slightly. “Thank you, Toph. I-,”

She pushed away from him, holding his robes at arm’s length. “Ugh, no, just save your emotions for Katara, please.”

“You’re the worst, you know that?” Zuko said. 

“That’s more like it.” 

Toph punched his arm. “Goodnight, Zuko.”

“Night, Toph.”

The earthbender turned on her heel and disappeared down the hallway. Toph had brightened his mood, for a moment, at least, but when he opened the door to his chambers and the saw the darkness cast into the room from the window, he imagined Katara out there, alone, and he could hardly take it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone for their support as always :)


	12. Chapter 12

Katara did not know why she ran from the courtyard—running was Aang’s thing—but she acted on instinct and was entirely too terrified and upset to sit there and watch Sokka and Zuko stare at her with flabbergasted faces any longer.

She was deeply ashamed, too, to the point of tears, and when she found a hiding spot where she hoped no one would find her, sobs racked her entire body.

Katara had forsaken everything Hama taught her, swore she would never do it—twice, since Zuko had seen her on the Southern Raiders ship. She’d kept her promise for _years_.

And then she hadn’t. Not only had she used it, she—she _reveled_ in it. Her rage took control and she _wanted_ to hurt the person that tried to take her brother away, even if it was on accident. Her family was _all_ that she had, Sokka had been the only constant in her life, when their mother was dead, when their father was gone, when they were fighting in a war—she _would not lose him_.

Katara hadn’t hurt the man, in the end—if she hadn’t killed Yon Rha it certainly wasn’t worth killing some pathetic assassin, but the rage was the same, and she hated it. That she couldn’t feel passion just for good things. That her convictions meant she felt such an intense wrath in the same way she felt joy and righteousness.

It was all very complicated and guilt-inducing, and she didn’t know how to stop doing something that she felt like she was _supposed_ to hate, and sometimes didn’t.

Katara concluded that she had grown into an awful, _awful_ person. Who cared about vanity and getting credit for her ideas, who wanted power and sometimes—sometimes didn’t immediately reject the thought of hurting people who came after her family.

Only these thoughts kept her company, and the night passed quickly because she cried herself to sleep at the base of a massive tree at the edge of the caldera. She could have gone back, but she didn’t—she loved her friends, but none of them had _answers_.

Her mother had answers. She’d always known what to say. Katara had spent so many nights as a child nestled in her lap, her mother stroking her hair, whispering advice to her. The _best_ advice, the right advice. She missed her mother, always, but sometimes the hollowness her death left in her heart was so horrible and gaping and painful, she couldn’t do anything but cry—lost, and without answers.

Katara eventually awoke at sunrise, curled between two gnarled roots, back cramped, feeling sticky and with an ache right between her eyes. She was apparently never too old to run from her problems but probably should do it in an actual bed next time. 

She knew the others would be worried about her, so she returned to the palace. It was quiet and still as she crossed through the gardens, but when she opened the door to her room, someone leapt up from the chair in the corner with a yelp.

“Aang?” she began incredulously, and she had to look up at him as he stood, given how tall he was now.

He grabbed her arms. “Katara, are you okay?”

“I—I’m fine,” she said. “Have you been waiting in here all night?”

“We were just so worried-,”

Katara gently slipped from his grasp. “That’s—sweet, Aang, but-,” She gave a rueful smile. “Really, I’m alright.”

“It’s okay, if you’re not,” Aang insisted. “I mean, you were gone all night.”

“I was safe,” she assured him. “I just needed time.”

Aang’s brow furrowed. “I know you—that you—well, Sokka told us what you did.”

Katara wondered if Aang had such distaste for bloodbending he couldn’t even say the word.

“I was protecting him.”

“Of course, Katara, it’s your brother,” he began earnestly. “But I know that the last time, you were really upset.”

She let out a heavy exhale. “It’s…very complicated, Aang, I-,” She stopped rubbed one side of her face. “It’s just a lot.”

Aang briefly touched her shoulder but did not hold on this time. “We support you, whatever you need. We can make sure you never have to bloodbend again.”

Katara clenched her jaw and looked down. If only the problem was that simple. Her actions of the previous day were easy to justify. Yes, she was supposed to hate bloodbending, but a choice between Sokka and her principles was frankly an easy one. Her _feelings_ about the matter—well, that was an entirely more complicated and thorny problem.

Aang would not understand. Was too good. Had even more power than her and had never been tempted by it. So she looked up and smiled at him, hoping to make it all go away.

“Thank you, Aang,” she said. “I should really get changed and head over to the hospital, but we’ll meet for lunch, okay?”

He seemed satisfied by her answers, as timid as they were, and returned her smile. “That sounds great. I’ve really missed you, you know.” 

“We won’t be apart for a while now,” she replied. “We should enjoy it while we can.”

Aang hugged her tight after that and then slipped through the door. She waited in her room until she heard his footsteps descend down the hallway. Her dress was a crinkled mess, so she quickly changed and tried to tame her hair.

She hadn’t just made an excuse to Aang and really _was_ intending to go to the hospital. Except when she crossed back through the gardens, passing the turtleduck pond, she thought fondly of Zuko and then was gripped with the memories of the day before. Her fear, then anger, how she stoked it and stood there terrorizing a man because she _wanted_ to.

The hospital would be no help to her in this state, spiraling back into her thoughts from the night before. She wondered if she should talk to Aang again—he was the one that offered himself first, she could imagine why, and yet she still didn’t want to do it, knowing he would never _really_ understand why she did what she did. Zuko might, of course. He had seen her use bloodbending for—less than altruistic reasons, out of rage, and he hadn’t expressed utter disgust or criticized her. Perhaps he would do the same again, which felt pathetic to even want.

His suite of rooms was guarded, of course—by Fire Nation soldiers, at this time of day, and when she was walking down the quiet hallway, she hesitated, lips pursed and suddenly nervous. Zuko had so much to deal with in the mornings, especially with the summit, he hardly had time for her rambling.

She slowed to a stop, but one of the guards spotted her as she turned to flee.

“Ambassador Katara!” he called, then jogged over to her. “Please, the Fire Lord will see you in his sitting room.”

“No, really, I couldn’t, he’s busy-,”

Another guard hurried past her, and she furrowed her brow while the man in front of her spoke.

“We were given explicit instructions to escort you there if you arrived. Fire Lord Zuko will join you shortly.”

Katara pointed behind her. “Is he—going to fetch Zuko? Because that’s totally unnecessary-,”

The guard opened one of the heavy doors. “Please, Ambassador Katara, he was very insistent.”

She relented and followed the man into Zuko’s quarters. She was led to the sitting room, where it was quiet and awkward and stuffy, and she _really_ wanted to leave because her emotional baggage was not Zuko’s problem. The door shut behind her, robbing her of her chance to escape, and she walked over to the window, pulling the curtains aside with two fingers and peeking outside. 

A few minutes later, the door burst open—Katara gave a surprised yelp and spun around to see Zuko at the door. He strode into the room, fully dressed in his Fire Lord robes, before stopping in front of her.

She spoke before he could.

“A very pushy guard led me in here.”

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly. “I had a meeting, but I wanted to make sure if you needed to talk-,”

There was sweat on his temple, and under his many layers of formal regalia, his chest was heaving slightly.

“Did you run here?” she asked, one brow quirked. 

Zuko flushed red and rubbed the back of his neck. “Uh, well—I’ve just been worried.”

“You didn’t want to wait in my room all night?” she began, plopping down on the plush bench along the window.

“I think it may have been—a little crowded,” Zuko replied. 

He meant Aang, and yes, he was right that even with one, it was crowded.

“It’s not like you haven’t done it before,” she said. 

“I waited _outside_ your tent,” he pointed out, then sighed. “And—and frankly, we’re adults now, I’m not going to force you to talk to me.”

Katara’s eyes dropped, and she crossed her arms. “I don’t even know what I’m doing here.”

“I may not be much help,” he admitted. “But I’m still here, we can talk.” 

She frowned, thinking of her conversation with Aang, how _he_ had wanted to help. “I do not _regret_ saving Sokka-,”

“I know that, Katara,” he said. 

She abruptly stood. “He is my _brother_ , someone was going to hurt him-,”

“No one thinks you shouldn’t have saved his life.”

Katara stepped closer and met his gaze, pleading with him to believe her when she didn’t believe herself. “I was _not_ going to kill that man.”

“Of course,” he said softly, brow furrowed. 

Her chin was trembling, and she was so tired of crying that she ripped her eyes away and let out a heavy breath. She collapsed at the small table beside him—a fruit tart had been left out with a few bites taken out of it. Her stomach lurched, not from guilt this time, and she reached out for a few bites.

“Let me get you some real food,” Zuko said hastily, gesturing back to the door.

Her mouth was full but she didn’t care. “Just let me eat my old fruit tart in peace.”

Zuko relented and sat beside her, pulling his chair around so it was closer. His hand twitched on his knee, but he did not reach out to her.

“You shouldn’t be angry at yourself,” he said eventually. “If you—don’t hate bloodbending as much as you think you should.”

She had demolished a decent amount of the tart, but apparently eating something had not put her in a better mood.

“What is that supposed to mean?” she asked.

His jaw was clenched tight—she knew he felt helpless in situations like this—but he persisted.

“You do it with other things too,” he said. “You tortured yourself over not liking Aang because you thought that you should.”

“Those aren’t the same,” she protested.

“Katara, they are-,”

She scowled and then spun the same lies she'd been telling herself. “I _should_ hate bloodbending and I _do_ hate it.”

“You didn’t even hesitate,” Zuko said. “It was the middle of the day.”

All true and all things she _hated_. She hadn't hesitated, hadn't cared that it wasn't dark, or a full moon, she sensed the blood coursing in the man's veins and immediately seized it, utterly blinded by rage. 

She smacked her hand against the table and stood again, clattering the delicate gold tableware, wanting to tower over him, intimidate him, so that he’d _take it back_.

“I did not come in here to be accused of being some kind of _monster_ ,” she snapped. “Because I’m _not_. I-I was mad, but I’m not a _bad person_.”

He leaned back, but said nothing, brow raised.

Her voice was wavering, throat suddenly tight. Warm tears welled up when she looked at him.

“R-Right?” 

Zuko’s eyes widened and he scrambled up to her, close, but then lost his resolve, looking uncertain as his hand rose to her hair. He gently touched the strands at the nape of her neck. “Katara, of course.”

“B-Because I-,” She hastily tried to capture the tears that had spilled over onto her cheeks. “All it did was make me feel powerful, not bad.”

“You are powerful.”

Katara swallowed roughly. “Isn’t that awful, though? To like…bending people to my will?” 

“It was for the right reason,” he said. “Protecting your brother.”

“What if it’s not, one day?” she asked, crossing her arms, protectively, trying to sink inward and disappear.

Zuko shook his head. “Even if it’s the wrong reason once, it doesn’t mean you can’t be forgiven for it.”

That was—a nice answer. A real answer. Not, _don’t worry, Katara, you’re perfect and never do anything wrong_. Because that was nice, but a lie, and further trapped her on a pedestal she never wanted to be put on. 

She tried to take a stabilizing breath. She felt utterly incoherent, a thorny jumble of emotions that defied logic or translation.

“I don’t—want that,” she said. “To do it. I never did, I just thought— _hoped_ that I would be more horrified with my _choice_ than my feelings about it.”

“You shouldn’t feel bad about any of it,” Zuko said.

Her eyes flicked over to the window, hand on her neck and then her hair, where Zuko had run his fingers across it, which she liked more than she probably should.

“I don’t know why I had such a visceral reaction,” she murmured, then bit her lip. “I—I’ve felt a little lost lately, you know. Since the war. I want to change so much and it’s not exactly instantaneous.”

He sighed. “I know, Katara, and I’m sorry.”

Spirits, she was suddenly embarrassed, flushed red with shoulders near her ears. She was lost— _helpless_ in some ways—and with friends like the Avatar and the fucking _Fire Lord_ , it was…demoralizing.

“Yesterday, I felt—in control, I guess,” she admitted. “Finally angry about something I could actually fix.”

“I understand,” he said.

Katara gave him a critical look. “Do you realize how insane you sound? How insane _I_ sound?”

“We have friends who are far better suited to give you a lecture if that’s what you’re after,” he said with a shrug. “I mean it when I say I understand and that you made the right choice.” 

“No, no, I don't want that,” she said with a shake of her head. “You were—well, thank you, Zuko.” She sniffled and rubbed one side of her face. “And sorry for crying.”

He was quiet, and the next thing she felt was his warm hand on her face, the pad of his thumb, really, pressing along her cheekbone and wiping her remaining tears away. She looked up at him, which scared him off, though she didn’t want that, his fingers hastily retracting into a fist and falling too his side.

“Sorry, that was-,” He cleared his throat. “I should get back to Kuei.”

She started, ripped from the nice warmth his hand had left on her face. “Wait— _Kuei_?” she began. “You left a meeting with—with-,” She made an exasperated sound. “Are you out of your _mind_?”

“It’s fine,” he insisted.

“He’s the _Earth King_ ,” she replied. “And I wouldn’t say your two nations exactly get along. You’re going to cause an international incident!”

Zuko chuckled. “I left after telling him he wasn’t getting any more coin from me, he needed to stew on it anyway.”

“You shouldn’t have done that,” she said pointedly. “I would have been fine.”

“Maybe, but someone has to keep you from being so hard on yourself,” he replied.

She smiled slightly. “I think you’re stealing my lines.”

“We may have some things in common, you know,” he said.

Some short, errant strands had fallen from his top knot and she soothed them back from his forehead. 

“Yes, I also look hideous in a ponytail.”

A sharp laugh left him. “That bad, was it?”

“I probably never would have forgiven you if you didn’t grow your hair out,” she said.

He gave a crooked grin. “I knew my good looks convinced you.”

She knew his smugness came easy because he didn’t actually _believe_ he was handsome—because he didn’t give it much thought or because of his scar, which was just ridiculous because he was so far from unattractive she got distracted by him sometimes at council meetings, or dinner, or in the courtyard.

She tried very valiantly not to be distracted now. “And your honeyed words, of course,” she said. “One _hello, Zuko here_ and I was smitten.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You threatened to murder me like—the day after that.”

She was hoping he had forgotten that little exchange, but apparently not. “I wasn’t _really_ going to hurt you,” she insisted.

His smile widened. “I remember you used to put a _ton_ of fire flakes specifically in my food,” he said. “I think you wanted to be mean without realizing how much I liked things spicy.”

Katara sucked in a mortified breath before letting out a laugh with her face in her hands. “Oh, spirits, I _did_.”

“See, you’re terrible at being bad,” he said.

She snorted at that, smacking him in the stomach with the back of her hand, which didn’t do much since he had so many layers on. He grabbed her wrist, but before he spoke, the door behind them opened.

An attendant appeared, and Zuko grimaced before the man even spoke.

“I’ll be there soon,” he said, and Katara gave a huff.

“Seriously, Zuko, get out of here,” she said. “I was not kidding about the international incident, and I need to get to the hospital.”

He raised his hands to her as they turned for the door. “Alright, as long as you’re sure. I’ll see you this afternoon at least.”

She stopped at the threshold and fiddled with the elegant embroidery of his robe, which she did too often. “Thank you, again.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” he said. “I’d—do anything for you, Katara.”

She hugged him around his waist and rested her cheek on his shoulder so she could look at him.

“Could I have my money for the hospital then?” she whispered with a grin.

He gave her a playful glare. “You are impossible.”

“I’ll take that as a maybe.”

Zuko had put one arm across her shoulder, but to pull them apart. “Since you are feeling _so_ much better, Ambassador Katara, I’ll leave you, as I believe I have an appointment to be screamed at by the Earth King.”

She released him with a goodbye, and they hurried down the hallway in opposite directions, though frankly Katara wished she could join him. Unfortunately the ambassador to the Southern Water Tribe really had no place in negotiations between the Fire Nation and the Earth Kingdom, according to Zuko’s advisors and the particularly ornery representative from the Northern Water Tribe. She really should have chastised herself for that thought, wanting to be everywhere at once. It was enough to be ambassador, she didn’t need to have a hand in _everything_ , but somehow found herself feeling not so guilty anymore, about any of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I rarely do one scene chapters but I think this one does enough work on its own to be enjoyed as a standalone ;)


	13. Chapter 13

The rest of the summit was uneventful, which was a good thing, after the craziness from before, and soon Sokka, Toph and Suki were loading themselves onto a ship and sailing back off to the Earth Kingdom with a promise to visit again very soon, which Katara was banking on, even if it wasn’t true, because her heart hurt every time they left.

Aang had said nothing explicit about his departure, which wasn’t unusual, since he traveled on his whims most times, but the afternoon the others left, he found her in the gardens. She’d been sitting out there a while, though enjoyed it less given the hotter temperatures.

He sat beside her, close, and nudged her shoulder as he spoke. “How are you?”

Katara let out a breath. “ _Hot_. I don’t remember being so sweaty all the time on Ember Island.”

Aang gave a short chuckle—he didn’t seem nearly as sweaty, maybe it was the airbending, or being bald, since her long, thick hair was the subject of her most intense ire when it was this warm.

“I miss it there, don’t you?” he asked. “All of us together.”

She did remember those times fondly sometimes, other times not, when she thought about the impending doom she felt, the restless nights.

“I don’t miss worrying about Sozin’s comet, but the beach was nice.”

Aang was quiet for a moment, watching the turtleducks paddle around, before he looked over at her. “When I asked about how you were I actually meant—you know, earlier,” he said. “I just want to make sure you’re okay out here in the Fire Nation.”

He probably thought she was being corrupted, since she’d been in the Fire Nation only a few months and was now bloodbending with impunity (in his mind)—none of it true, of course, but he’d never understood that part of her anyway.

“I’m fine, Aang,” she assured him. “And I like it here.”

He gave a small smile. “You know I was thinking it might be good if I stayed a few extra weeks.”

“I’m sure Zuko would appreciate your help,” she replied.

That seemed to embolden him for some reason, and he turned to her, earnest as usual. “You know I really have missed you—I wish I could be here more. Or wherever you are.”

Katara wanted to give Aang the benefit of the doubt, to hope that this was a purely platonic expression of emotion. It’s not as if they weren’t close, that they didn’t say nice things to each other, or hug.

“Oh, Aang, that’s-,” She cleared her throat and smiled slightly. “-very nice of you.”

He reached out and grabbed her hand, fingers across hers, bold, squeezing.

“So that’s something you’d want, too?”

She froze, shoulders stiff—why was thinking the best of people backfiring so often lately? She was just trying to avoid complication, _drama_ , keep their friendships all together so they could focus on improving the world. And Aang wanted, what? To drag her around on Appa so she could stand behind him with his other acolytes and smile? 

Aang’s hopeful expression slipped the longer the silence stretched.

“Katara?”

She inhaled a breath through her nose before gently extracting his hand from hers.

“What are you asking, Aang?”

His brow furrowed. “I thought we could spend more time together. Find a way to—make things work.”

“We were together two _years_ ago-,” she began exasperatedly, before she rubbed her brow. “Spirits, I thought you had that—girlfriend in the Air Acolytes.”

She’d thought it was a perfect match, frankly, Aang and some girl who worshipped him and the Air Nomads, but she avoided talking to him about his relationships at all, for this _exact_ reason.

Aang rested his arm along the back of the bench and leaned closer. “Yes, but—but I’m older now and when I think about who I want to be with—who I’m _meant_ to be with, I think it’s you, Katara.”

“That’s not just _your_ choice,” she replied, trying to rein in the anger rising up her throat—she tried to control it, she did, because Aang was not malicious, just persistent, and passionate, but she was tired of letting him down. “And you know I don’t feel the same.”

“You’re telling me you haven’t changed your mind, even a little-,”

“No, Aang, I haven’t-,”

“But in Yu Dao-,”

She threw her hand out. “We worked together to help people—that doesn’t mean I want to be in a relationship again.”

“Katara, this-,” He sighed, sounding desperate. “-doesn’t make any sense, I will do _anything_ if you’ll just-,”

“How many times are you going to make me do this, Aang?” she demanded, trying to keep her voice from wavering. “I care about you, and I don’t want to hurt you, but—I’m done disregarding my feelings so that you feel good. That will do us no favors in the end.”

“If you would just _try_ -,”

She abruptly stood. “No, Aang, I don’t have to try,” she snapped. “I don’t owe you anything, and I don’t want to be with you.”

She may as well have slapped him, with his wide eyes and trembling chin, and guilt lanced through her, but she steeled herself to it because that is what had made her let him down too gently the last time.

“I will never want it,” she added, twisting the knife, based on his expression, but it was the _truth_ and she wasn’t going to feel bad for the truth even if it hurt. 

Aang hastily sat up, but did not reach for her. “Katara, I’m sorry-,”

“You don’t owe me an apology,” she said. “You just—have to let go, Aang.”

His lips were pursed tight, eyes wider and glassy, which she _hated_. “Katara-,”

She was not going to comfort him this time—she couldn’t. “I don’t think you should stay,” she whispered hoarsely. “At least not now.” 

The hurt was really piling on, thanks to her, but she couldn’t take it, any of it, so she spun on her heel and marched back to her room, fuming. Aang did not follow her.

====

Though the Fire Nation palace was understandably massive, Zuko had become very practiced at finding Katara. It wasn’t exactly standard behavior of any other ambassadors, but when she wasn’t at the hospital, she could often be found in the library or the garden, even in the kitchens sometimes because she hated other people making her tea for her. 

He searched the usual places for her, for the late afternoon, and found her in the royal family’s private training room, that he shared with her and the others when they came to visit.

She wasn’t doing any sort of full practice, still wearing her more formal blue dress and spinning just the water from her water skin around her, brow furrowed in concentration.

Katara noticed him immediately, looking up when he slipped through the door. She stepped out of her bending stance as he walked closer. 

“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” he said. “I was reading your proposal and-,” He stopped in front of her, finally noticing the thin set of her lips and clenched jaw. “You don’t look like you want to talk about work.”

She flung the water around her to an empty bucket. “I’m fine.”

“Katara…”

She frowned. “I can’t, Zuko, it’s-,” A huff left her, hand on her brow. “It’s all this mess _again_ with—with Aang.”

He had not been expecting that to be the problem, though with a few more seconds of thought, maybe it wasn’t so outlandish. Aang had shown such concern for her over the last few days, always eager to be near her, understand her. He might have thought he finally had a shot again. 

For all Zuko’s racing thoughts on the subject, all he could offer in response to her was a feeble _oh_. 

Unimpressed, probably, she brushed past him to her shoes. “I know, he’s your friend-,”

“Tell me,” Zuko said, turning to watch her. “It’s okay.”

“I’ve overreacting,” she said. “I should go apologize-,”

“What happened?” he asked.

Katara hesitated, hands rested on her hips and eyes on her feet. “Aang wanted—to stay here, for us to, you know, get back together.”

Zuko blinked, said nothing, like an idiot. The two of them had spoken a little about her relationship, years ago. All he wanted at the time was for her to be happy, for both of them to be happy, and he remembered feeling sorry that she looked so distressed.

He still did feel that way now, seeing her anger and concern and guilt, but he was—tense, suddenly, certainly not _impartial_ about the thought of Aang putting his arms around her again if that indeed would make her happy.

“After…all this time?” he asked lamely.

Katara was too riled up to notice how stilted his voice was. She scowled. “He thinks that we’re destined to be together, and since _he_ thinks that, then surely I _must_ agree-,”

“I thought he had some little girlfriend-,”

“I am tired of feeling so bad for—for the _truth_ ,” she began angrily. “It hurts him every time, and I wish he would just _get it_.”

“You probably let him down too easily the first time,” he remarked—he didn’t even think she was listening to him, the way she paced around the room with her fists clenched. She could really rant sometimes, when she got started on a subject she felt passionate about, which was a _lot_ of subjects, except he thought it was endearing.

She _had_ heard him though, and spun on her heel, frown directed at him.

“I wasn’t easy on him, I was _nice_ ,” she snapped. “I’m allowed to be nice and his friend without that _meaning_ anything.”

Zuko rubbed his neck. “I assume he gets it now.” 

That seemed to take the wind out of her, and she collapsed back against the wall, defeated.

“Only because I screamed it at him,” she muttered, then rubbed her face. “Things were just—working between all of us, you know. The whole reason I didn’t break up with him right away all those years ago was because I didn’t want to hurt our group, and I finally thought that now-,” Her shoulders slumped. “Well, I was an idiot.”

He shifted awkwardly, without the right words, as usual—Katara seemed to find it unbelievable that Aang could pine this long for her, but…well, he certainly knew it was in the realm of possibility, and it’s not as if Aang hadn’t done it already during the war, if he fell in love the moment he laid eyes on her like he said. 

“I’m sorry that he sprung this on you.”

“He always does,” Katara said, some bitterness in her tone. “Everything is fine, and I think we don’t have to worry about it, and suddenly he’s kissing me or something-,”

“He _kissed_ you?” Zuko interjected, far, _far_ too affronted about the matter, and he promptly told himself to shut the fuck up.

“No, no,” Katara replied with a wave of her hand. “It just—feels sudden, I meant.”

It felt sudden to him, too, but he was clearly comprised (and doomed) in his analysis, so he just gave a small nod.

He had done nothing to continue the conversation, or comfort her, and she was quiet, jaw clenched, hands laced together. “Maybe I should just do it,” she whispered. “I want us all to be friends, more than anything-,”

“Katara, you can’t,” Zuko said— _declared_ , really, speaking with far too much authority and force about her choice because he was a fool.

It went without saying that he had a jealous streak, maybe mellowed a _little_ by age, though clearly not that much. After a lifetime of having things taken from him, by Azula, by his father—he held on too tight to what he had, hoarded it. And apparently that applied to the prospect of Katara leaving him, the Fire Nation, for Aang.

And yet he had no right at all to masquerade like he had _her_ best interests at heart when the only words clawing their way out of his throat were things to keep her around for _his_ sake.

Her eyes had snapped up to him, narrowed, and he backtracked, bright red. “I’m sorry, Katara, I just meant I don’t want—I want you to-,” He exhaled shakily. “To be happy, not _sacrificing_ for everyone else.”

Katara’s angry look softened, to his relief, and she crossed her arms. “I know.”

“I don’t like to see Aang hurt, either,” he said. “I really think he will move on someday.”

“You said that two years ago,” she muttered. 

“He’s only sixteen, and you—formed a powerful bond with him,” Zuko said. “It’s not so easy.” 

She let out a heavy sigh. “I’ve been infatuated with people plenty of times, I don’t know what Aang thinks is so special about me.”

Zuko did not know what to tell her. Aang pined for her because she _was_ so special. She was beautiful, kind, smart. Not the smartest, maybe, that was Sokka, or the kindest, because really Aang was, and being beautiful was not a reason to pine for someone for years. But Katara burned the brightest, fought the hardest—she was brave, confident, relentless.

And really _was_ quite beautiful—

He felt a little nauseous, suddenly, like he was going to throw up these words he was thinking, which could absolutely _not_ happen, so he smiled sheepishly and rubbed his neck again.

“I mean, you do—fight good.”

She gave him a bewildered look, and he tried not to melt into the floor. “Um, thanks?” she began. “Not really sure that merits pining after someone for years, but-,”

“He’ll get it,” Zuko blurted out—he needed this conversation to have ended two minutes ago. “Aang will move on.”

Katara looked doubtful, but straightened. “I hope so, very badly,” she said, then carded a few fingers through the ends of her hair. “Sorry for dumping this on you. Again.”

“No please,” he said. “It was my pleasure.” He stopped. “I mean, not that I _enjoy_ -,”

Her lip ticked up slightly. “I know what you meant.”

Zuko was glad at least _someone_ did because his blathering hardly made sense to him sometimes. She had bent down to pull her shoes back on while he pretended to be fascinated by the smooth floor under them.

“You deserve to be happy,” he finally said. “And you don’t have to keep pretending that doing everything for everyone else makes you happy.”

She looked at him—it was too intense, those piercing blue eyes leveled at him, and he clenched his jaw and hoped she didn’t notice. 

“I was too harsh,” she said.

“You weren’t.”

“How would you know?” she asked.

“I know you, a little,” he said.

She quirked one well formed eyebrow. “A little?”

 _A lot_ , he meant. It’s all he cared about sometimes.

He was blushing, which split her mouth into a wide smile. “You make it too easy to tease you, Zuko.”

“It brings _you_ far too much joy to do it,” he countered, when he could breathe again.

She laughed and grabbed his heavy robes. “Thank you for always making me feel so much better,” she said, then suddenly looked a little nervous. She bit her lip, not hard, though maybe hard, he couldn’t tell because he needed to stop looking at her mouth. “I hope I’m not—I don’t know, monopolizing your friendship. You and Aang are close.”

“If he comes to me, I’ll tell him the truth,” Zuko said, except that was a lie because _I encouraged your ex-girlfriend not to reconcile with you so she’ll stay here with me_ is not something Aang would want to hear. “He can’t fault me for wanting you to be happy.”

“I hope not,” she said.

“But if-,” He cleared his throat, wanting to stop—why did his _stupid_ inner Uncle always want him to be a _good person_? “If you’re not happy here, in the Fire Nation, you should go where you are happy. I don’t want you to feel like you’re ever—in that situation again. Doing things just for my sake. Or anyone's.”

Katara hugged him around the waist, tight, with her head tucked under his chin. “Thank you, Zuko,” she said, voice muffled slightly. “You’re a good friend.”

He hugged her back and said nothing, because he wasn’t. 

====

Aang left, Katara did not speak to him, and only cried about it a little at night, which was frankly better than she expected, given the spiraling, awful thoughts she had about her friendship with him, the others, how they were supposed to all exist together when Aang was prodding her and she was snapping at him. She knew things would feel less sharp, eminent, with time, but it was hard to have that perspective and not just forsake romance forever. Thankfully, she had plenty of things to do, to distract her, from her emotions and the awful weather.

A few weeks after the summit, it was a punishingly hot day. Katara had experienced extreme weather in the South Pole, but this was not a numbing cold on a dark winter night—it was an oppressive heat that was impossible to escape. The ground was hot, the air was hot— _everything_ was hot. Zuko assured her only a handful of days out of the year were this miserable, but one _hour_ of suffocating temperatures was plenty for her, and she longed for the temperate South Pole summer.

Instead, she was stuck in the Fire Nation, where she wanted to dump her entire body into the ocean and stay there until autumn. Not an option unfortunately, though, because she was needed at the hospital and in meetings and in a million other places _not_ made of ice. The hospital would be the most dire, she knew. The minute she walked in that morning, already tired and sweaty, Kaida was dragging her into the room, more frantic than usual. Her thin tunic was streaked with sweat, temple glistening.

There was a girl prostrate on a cot near one of the hospital’s only windows, eyes closed, chest rising erratically. Her pale skin was flushed red, but when Katara touched her hand, it felt clammy. She had a towel across her forehead that looked like it was cold once.

“She was working out on a ship with her brother,” Kaida said. “She didn’t have any water and with the weather-,”

Katara’s brow furrowed. “I can’t really heal something like this,” she said. “But surely if we cool her body down that will help.”

“And where exactly do you intend to get that much ice?” she asked with a scoff. “This isn’t like your fancy little palace.”

It hadn’t occurred to Katara that icy was a luxury—the palace _did_ just always have it in abundance and it was never in short supply at the South Pole, obviously. Still, _that_ was an easy problem to fix. Katara gestured with one hand and the bucket of water beside the girl froze solid, the wood creaking as it expanded.

Kaida, for once, had wide eyes and no hint of a frown on her face. “You—you can make _ice_?”

“You didn’t know that?” Katara asked incredulously.

“You’re a _water_ bender, not an icebender,” she replied defensively. “Can you—do you have to touch the water, can you make a lot?”

“I don’t have to touch it, and I can make a lot.”

“Ocean water?”

“Yes.”

Kaida turned to the two girls that helped her in hospital. “Airi, Hana,” she barked. “Get to the harbor and fill everything you can with water. Haul it back here. Find help if you can.”

While both girls nodded and scurried off, Kaida turned back to her. “I knew you weren’t totally useless.”

That was high praise coming from such a grumpy woman, but Katara did not needle her for more or stop to enjoy the moment too long—together they hoisted the girl on the cot to the bath. It was filled with water already, which was lukewarm and only so helpful for anyone with heat exhaustion.

Katara turned it to shards of ice, though they melted quickly and she had to constantly re-bend it to keep the girl cool. Airi and Hana appeared after, carrying buckets, sloshing water everywhere. She bent that as well, to the squealing glee of the girls.

Katara was surprised—maybe even flabbergasted—that no one knew she could create ice from water on command. Though she probably _was_ the first waterbender they’d ever come into contact with, and surely Ozai’s propaganda played a role in diminishing the abilities of other benders. Kaida had only ever seen her heal, or manipulate the water in her water skin.

Quite ironically, waterbending was an incredibly valuable skill to have in the Fire Nation, and she was ashamed that she hadn’t realized how little people outside the palace had to combat the intense heat of this time of year. Really what she was ashamed of was all she forgot about regular life while she was waited on hand and foot by an army of servants in the palace—it made her woefully out of touch, and it’s the last thing she wanted to be.

A number of patients arrived that day sick from the heat, which according to Kaida could be quite dangerous if not addressed promptly. It was a recipe for disaster, really, the sweltering temperatures and the demanding work most people who lived around the harbor did. With money tight, most families couldn’t forego a day’s work just because it was hot.

Word apparently spread quickly about Katara that morning. She’d been in the Fire Nation for months and mostly gone unnoticed—among the nobles or in the village—but suddenly as Airi and Hana hustled bucket after bucket of water into the hospital, _other_ people began lining up with their own water, inquiring whether the _ice lady_ would consider making some for them.

It brought her a truly unending amount of joy that with one flick of her hand, she could transform four, five, up to _ten_ buckets, right into ice, to the gasps of delight from the people in the village. The task took some effort, but not a lot—she’d been bending water to ice even before her formal training with Pakku. That something so simple could be of so much help—well, she just wished she had realized sooner everything that was lacking here. Maybe if she didn’t live in the palace she would have.

Katara stayed longer at the hospital than usual because it only got hotter as the sun rose high in the sky over their heads, and she didn’t have meetings until late in the afternoon. 

For all Kaida’s crabbiness, the woman still made sure that Katara herself was well-hydrated and fed while she helped keep up their ice supply. A number of people heaped vociferous praise on her for all her help, including the parents of the girl who had been in dangerously poor condition, but was much better now. She didn’t need the praise, but it was nice to be acknowledged when she thought she would only be met with hostility when she arrived here. 

Katara was about to leave for the palace when an unfamiliar figure stepped into the hospital—unfamiliar because the man’s clothes were heavy, finely made, clearly someone not used to being outside this time of day. He was older than Katara, but couldn’t be more than thirty. He did not look happy to be in such a dingy building.

He was clearly looking for her, and she was easy to spot given her blue dress. Without preamble, he grabbed her arm and pulled her back from the cot she was leaned over.

“Waterbender, come with me.”

Katara whirled around and pushed her weight into her heels so he couldn’t drag her further. “Excuse me, do I know you?”

“My name is Ryu, and I need help with something,” he said, not letting go of her. It irritated her to no end that the man spoke as if she should somehow already know who he was.

“I’m working, if we need to speak, you can do so later,” Katara replied curtly. 

He frowned. “I said now.”

Katara considered immediately snapping back at him, but reserved judgment in case this clearly wealthy noble had an _actual_ problem.

“Help with what?”

“I have a project for you at my estate—I’m in need of this-,” He gestured vaguely at her water skin. “Bending you’re doing.”

So much for an actual problem. She gave him a critical look. “I’m sure a man with an _estate_ such as yours can afford to buy his own ice.”

“I need a tremendous amount-,”

Katara yanked out of his grasp. “I don’t care, I’m not helping you.”

Ryu looked surprised—clearly a man not told _no_ very often—before his frown deepened. “I would encourage you to tread lightly. My father is a very powerful man-,”

She snorted. “Is he here right now, or are you just trying to intimidate me by proxy?”

“Perhaps you have not been here long enough, but my family does _not_ take kindly to such disrespectful behavior,” he snapped. 

Katara studied the man closer—he was not particularly handsome or lithe, but there was something sort of familiar about him.

“Councilman Dai is your father, isn’t he?” she asked, which explained a lot about what an asshole was.

Ryu had a smug look. “Yes, and as one of Fire Lord Zuko’s closest advisors-,”

She couldn’t help but laugh. “What? Fire Lord Zuko is going to come after me if I don’t do what you want?” 

“Well-,”

“Because I’m having dinner with him tonight, and I’d be happy to let him know that you’d like to have the Ambassador from the Southern Water Tribe at your beck and call to make _ice_.”

He surveyed her dress, crumpled and soaked with sweat, nose crinkled in disdain. “You’re not an ambassador.”

Kaida had walked over to them given the hostility in Katara’s tone. She pursed her lips after giving her usual scoff. “What other reason would a waterbender be in the Fire Nation?” she began. “For fun?”

Ryu did not speak at first, scowling and obviously considering that perhaps he was wrong and she was indeed who she said. Surely he had heard about her arrival, but never thought someone living in the palace would deign to get her hands dirty out here. 

His posture stiffened after a few moments. “I’ll see to it that my father is aware that the Ambassador from the Southern Water Tribe is debasing herself among—peasants,” he sneered.

“You do that,” Katara replied acridly. 

He spun on his heel, elegant robes fluttering behind him, and with a scowl Katara raised her arm—before she could do anything, a hand grabbed the back of her elbow, squeezing tight.

“It’s not worth it,” Kaida said.

Katara huffed and looked at her. “I wasn’t going to hurt him,” she said. “Just a little ice to embarrass him.”

“Still not worth it,” Kaida insisted gruffly. “Trust me.”

Katara relented, dropping her arm with an annoyed exhale. “Never thought you’d hold me back from putting a noble in his place.”

“You are entirely too useful to be imprisoned somewhere for offending some asshole,” Kaida replied.

“Zuko would never-,” She stopped herself and flushed. “I mean-,”

“Oh, _Zuko_ , is it?”

She hated how flustered she sounded. Zuko’s recent eligibility and general handsomeness aside, she was _not_ going to further endanger their dynamic by—well, by making the rounds among the men of their group that weren’t her brother.

“It’s not like that.”

“Of course not,” Kaida said with an entirely too smug look for someone whose default expression was a scowl.

Katara wiped her sweaty hands on her dress since it was already in quite an unkempt state. “I have a meeting, if you’ll recall,” she said, poorly maintaining her stiff facade. “I will see you tomorrow.”

“Say hi to _Zuko_ for me.”

Katara threw her a glare on the way out, which only seemed to amuse Kaida more. She got distracted by bending some more water in the street, but eventually made the trek back to the palace, sweat accumulating once again under the unforgiving sun.

Kaida’s playful jabs aside—it seemed everyone was making them as of late—she felt lighter, better, despite the heavy heat, than she had in weeks, especially after everything during the summit, fiasco with Aang included. It reminded her that there was still some good in her, and ultimately that—not Aang, not anyone else—is what made her happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always everyone's comments are so greatly appreciated and really keep me going! :)


	14. Chapter 14

Zuko obviously had many rooms in his private wing of the palace, a whole suite, including a plush office lined with tomes, a sitting room—his bedroom was so large, he had another desk and piles of books there too. It was less formal, and where he spent most of his time in private, pouring over correspondence and scrolls. Katara told him it wasn’t healthy that he just flopped out of bed and hurried right to his desk in the same room each morning when he didn’t have meetings, but naturally he could not be persuaded to break the habit.

Katara decided to bring tea to him one night after what she knew was a long day. Uncle Iroh had just sent her some lovely jasmine blends, and she ventured into the kitchen to prepare one following the painstakingly detailed directions he’d included with the little sachets of leaves.

She carried an ornate tray from the kitchens to his bedroom, giving a quiet knock before peering inside. He waved her in, and she shut the door with her foot since her hands were full. He looked up when it clicked shut.

“Hi, Katara.”

She walked into the room and set the tray on his desk—there was no empty spot so she balanced it delicately on some scrolls. “I made tea.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” he said.

Katara shrugged and sat in the empty chair beside him. “I terrified the kitchen staff a little, I think, but I promise it’s just as good as theirs.”

“I’m actually glad you came,” he said. “There was something I wanted to talk to you about.”

Her brow furrowed slightly. “Everything okay?”

Zuko shifted to face her, surrendering the papers in his hands. “Yes, of course, it’s just-,” He rubbed his neck. “Well, I don’t really know how to say this, but one of my staff has informed me that they, uh—think you stole a place setting from the dining room?”

She blinked at him for a moment—she didn’t quite understand what the issue was, and it had been weeks ago, honestly.

“I did.”

His eyes widened slightly. “Okay, well….” He waved his hand. “It’s no problem, I want you to feel comfortable here, I think if you would just return it-,”

“I sold it and gave the coin to Kaida,” she said. 

“You—what?” he began incredulously.

She leaned forward. “I got enough coin for _two months_ worth of medical supplies for a stupid plate set that you probably never use more than twice a year.” 

“Katara,” he said exasperatedly. “You can’t—you shouldn’t-,”

“You told me you couldn’t help me until the annual budget review,” she said.

He sighed. “Yes, but I have my own personal money, Katara, if I knew it was that important, I would have just-,”

She frowned slightly. This wasn’t the response she was expecting from him—as of late they’d been on the same page about most things. “It was just a plate, Zuko. I didn’t think anyone would notice.”

“The plate is not important, it’s that you stole it,” he said. “What am I supposed to tell my staff? And what if they tell my council that—that the Southern Water Tribe ambassador is stealing Fire Nation artifacts-,”

She gave an angry scoff. “Again, a _plate_!”

He rubbed his brow, another sigh leaving him. “Just please don’t take anything else, alright?”

The defeat in his voice made her eyes well up, which was silly—she knew what she’d done was brash, impulsive, maybe even _wrong_. Certainly not the way things were done in the Fire Nation where rules reigned paramount, but she was so frustrated by the lack of change, the people dying, she had to do something. And with all the largesse in the palace, she thought it would go unnoticed. She was suddenly deeply embarrassed, flushed bright red.

“I’m really sorry,” she managed to stammer out.

Katara stood and turned for the door to retreat, but she heard Zuko scrambling behind her.

“No, hey, wait,” he said hastily, squeezing himself into the small space between her and the door to block her just as she reached it.

Katara looked down to hide her glassy eyes—Zuko did not even have shoes on, she could see his pale feet between hers, really far too close together, but she didn’t step back.

“I’m not mad at you,” he insisted. “In fact, I mean, I—I like that about you. You’re never lacking, er, creative solutions-,”

“Please don’t patronize me,” she muttered.

One of his hands was trapped between his back and the door, but he grabbed her elbow with the other. “I wasn’t,” he insisted. “Really, Katara, you’re right. It’s wrong that the palace is so lavish while people outside lack basic necessities.”

“Some die because of it,” she whispered. 

“I know,” he replied. “And I am so happy you are here to fight for them.”

She shook her head. “I wasn’t thinking. It was silly.”

“You wanted to help,” he said. “And you don’t have to worry about my council, I was being alarmist. I’ll tell my staff you broke it and panicked, it’s happened before.” 

Katara finally lifted her eyes to him—his expression was hard to understand, even this close, but something flashed across his face, hurt, maybe, concern because he realized she had tears in her eyes. He always hated when she cried.

“We never had anything valuable growing up,” she said. “There’s never _extra_ when you’ve just been trying to survive for generations. Food, clothing, weapons, that’s it.” She gently fiddled with her necklace. “Even this is—is worthless, except to my family.”

“I clearly had too much,” he admitted. “Which kind of makes everything feel worthless in its own way.”

Given the look on his face, she doubted he wanted to relive more of that awful childhood of his tonight. He still had his top knot and crown on despite his casual clothes, so she put her hand on his shoulder to reach up and pluck it from his head.

She’d never held it before—it was surprisingly heavy, and she turned it in her hand as she shifted back on her heels. “So how much do you think I could get for this?”

Zuko watched her, brow raised. “Does whoever you sell it to get to do my job for me?”

“Oh is that how it works? Wear the crown, do the job?” she asked, circling his desk, closer to his massive wardrobe and bed, where a mirror was propped against the wall. She stood in front of it and nestled the headpiece in the part of her hair that was pulled back—she ignored that it was the _Fire Nation_ crown, and just enjoyed the pang of excitement that ran through her at the ridiculous fantasy in her head—being respected, powerful, not just power from bending, but power over _people_ , not doubted for her age, or because she was a girl.

Katara stamped out her guilt at those thoughts, but Zuko came over to spoil her fantasy and try to snatch the crown from her head. She dodged him with a little laugh.

“Don’t be so power hungry, Zuko,” she said. “Now that I’m Fire Lord, I’ll still give you a little something to do. Royal hair washer, maybe?”

He gave a snort and reached for her again, forcing her back to the desk, which she used as a barrier between them. His arm was long enough that he could easily reach across it. His other palm was flat against the desk—with a flick of her wrist the teapot beside him spilled over, the liquid freezing in a lump over his hand, trapping it against the wood.

“Hey, that’s cheating!” Zuko exclaimed, trying to pry his hand up while she walked back over to the mirror.

Obviously her move was not much of a deterrent for a firebender—she heard a faint hiss and then the chink of ice as he yanked himself free.

He was surprisingly fast, must have been all that training with Piandao, and before she could escape he pinned her elbows to her side from behind, holding her against his chest, with his arms wrapped around her.

“What now, Fire Lord?” he asked with a laugh.

“Not fair!” she sputtered, squirming in his grasp, straining her shoulders to pull herself free. She flailed her legs to little avail before a huff of defeat left her.

“When did you get so strong?” she muttered.

He chuckled. “I’m not sixteen anymore, you know.”

Katara had felt that laugh vibrating through his chest as her back was pressed against him—she didn’t know why those words hit her so differently, but they did. Maybe it was because of how tall he was now, his strong arms linked together just under her breasts—

She had stopped fighting and he released her, causing her to stagger forward a little before she spun on her heel to face him.

He was concerned by her sudden silence. “Did I hurt you?”

“I—I’m not made of glass, Zuko,” she said, one hand on her neck because she hoping to hide the flush rising up it. She removed his headpiece from her hair, a little roughly so a few strands of her dark hair were pulled out with it.

“Here,” she said, offering it back to him.

“And I was just starting to enjoy my vacation,” he replied with a small smile. He didn’t secure it back on his head and just tossed it onto his desk as he passed it.

When she didn’t say anything, he sat back in his chair—tea was not an option given their horseplay, so he pushed the tray aside to get at the papers underneath it. 

She was still looking at his headpiece, the way the gold glinted in the candlelight, and then at Zuko, and the strong line of his jaw—she was being tempted by _far_ too many things in this room, so she pushed her hair behind her ears and stepped back.

“I’ll let you get back to work,” she said.

He looked up. “Are you sure?” he asked. “I can have more tea made.”

“It’s alright, I should leave you,” she said, maybe for her own sake. “I promise I won’t take any more plates.”

Zuko smiled slightly. “Or at least don’t let anyone see you next time.”

“That sounds like a challenge.”

He shook his head, lip twitching to suppress his grin. “Goodnight, Katara.” 

Like most times after speaking with Zuko, she left the room with a smile.

====

The plate incident did not precipitate any further transgressions on the palace cutlery from Katara, though she would balk at the word _transgression_ and Zuko couldn’t blame her. She’d do whatever was necessary for the right reasons, and she always had the right reasons. And maybe a little to his horror at the time, he realized he’d always let her do whatever was necessary.

Late one night after that, Zuko was teetering dangerously on the edge of too little sleep when Katara burst into his bedroom. It was unusual for her to do that—she tried to give him some modicum of privacy, even though most times when she visited he was sat at his desk working. This time, though, the doors were flung open and Katara marched through with no preamble and two stammering guards behind her. She’d obviously come to him in a hurry—she wasn’t even wearing any shoes and her bare feet made defiant smacks against the smooth tile floor.

She was always her most animated at this time of night—the moon high in the sky through his window—but today she looked particularly fervent.

Zuko immediately stood when she appeared, waving off his men who really had no way at all from stopping Katara from going exactly where she wanted to.

“I’m going to the North Pole,” she announced, when she stopped in front of him and the doors clicked shut.

“Okay,” Zuko said. “Do you need a ship?”

“Your _biggest_ ship. I need a _fleet_ —no, an _armada_ -,”

He felt a little pang of concern at that, but hoped she was being hyperbolic. “Are you going to tell me what happened?”

She had a letter clamped in her fist and shoved it into his chest before she began pacing. “Did you know that in the three and a half years since the war not a _single_ woman has been trained in combat at the waterbending school?”

Zuko furrowed his brow. “I thought they allowed that after you.”

“I thought so too,” she said with a frown. “But apparently despite abolishing the rule, those cranky old waterbenders are still finding _plenty_ of ways to keep women in the healing hut.” She threw her hand out. “The women are expected to _try out_ for the school—they have to _prove_ they can handle it, and the only reason I was let in was because I was _special_.”

“And you’d like to go there to rectify that,” Zuko said, despite how pathetic it was that he missed her already even _thinking_ about the prospect of her departure. “I’m not sure I can give you a fleet-,”

Katara waved her hand. “No, no, I was being dramatic,” she said. “It just bothers me. A lot. I really thought I had changed things, proven something.”

“You did change things,” Zuko insisted. “It just can’t happen all at once.”

“I may be gone for a while,” she said, crossing her arms. “You won’t rescind my ambassadorship, will you?”

“Never,” he said. “And stay as long as you need.”

She pushed her hair behind her ears—it was all the way down this time of night, which he may have liked but would never admit. “I know you’re doing the budget in three or four months, right? I’ll be back by then.”

“What are you going to do when you get there?” Zuko asked.

Katara let out a breath. “I haven’t gotten that far yet,” she admitted. “I—I just got this letter and went straight to you.” Her cheeks reddened a little. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have burst in here-,”

“It’s fine,” he insisted. 

“You should be asleep,” she said. “You look tired.”

“I don’t have much energy at night like you,” he replied.

Katara walked over to his open window and peered out of it—she looked comforted by the silver light cast across her, and instead of staring at her like an idiot he soothed the crumpled letter she had shoved into his hands.

Her content smile twisted to a small smirk. “I do rise with the moon.”

His huff in response was more mortified than anything. He couldn’t ever live anything down with her. “Hasn’t it been long enough that we can pretend you were impressed by my poignant prose?”

She giggled. “I thought you were a _total_ dork, and I was right.”

“You’re supposed to say something dramatic after you win a fight,” he grumbled.

“Win?” she began, throwing a scandalized look over her shoulder. “You didn’t _win_ , it was a momentary _lapse_ that was then rectified later.”

“In a blizzard.”

“And?”

“It was basically cheating,” he said. 

She shook her head, grinning. “Such a sore loser, Fire Lord Zuko.”

Her eyes flicked back to the window—he wanted to stand beside her, but decided against it. He often stood close to her, yearning for her easy affection, the way she would touch his arm, or run a few fingers across his hair to push it from his eyes, or hug him, even, for no reason at all, just to say _good morning_ or because she was in a good mood. He wished he could be that way with her, but found himself paralyzed at the thought most times.

“I should go,” she said, after a few moments of silence. “I’ll plan to leave for the North Pole in the next few days, if I’m not needed here for something?”

He needed her, all the time, but only nodded. “I can have a ship prepared in short order, if you want. Anything you need, though I doubt Arnook will appreciate a lecture from the Fire Nation.”

“I’ll find passage up there, don’t worry,” she said. “And I’ll be back before you know it.”

“I’ll write to you,” he said.

She smiled. “You’d better.”

He missed her already.

====

_Dear Zuko,_

_The weather was kind to us, and we’ve docked in the North Pole. I received a very warm and friendly welcome from the tribe but of course over the past week have accomplished nothing. These stubborn old men are very good at giving useless platitudes, you should consider hiring them to play politics in the Fire Nation._

_It was so easy when I was fourteen, you know. They told me I couldn’t train with Pakku, and I proved I was twice as good as the boys. They got rid of their dumb rule, and I thought it would be better, but now instead of being flagrantly unfair, it’s just secretly unfair. _

_When I asked the teachers why there were no women doing waterbending combat, they said none were interested. That they had no real candidates. Even without the hard and fast rule, from the minute they’re born these girls are taught where they “belong,” what they’re “good at,” so they don’t try anything else._

_It’s so infuriating. Even Ozai, who is literally the worst, let Azula be Fire Lord, and yet the men here scoff at the prospect of a woman being in charge. They should be ashamed! _

_You know patience is not a virtue of mine, so you can imagine how tense all these conversations have been. I may be banished and back in the Fire Nation sooner than we thought. Sokka is coming to visit in a few weeks, so maybe that will help. I’ll have someone to vent to that’s not a piece of parchment._

_I hope things are okay in the capital and that you’re not working too hard. I miss you._

_With love,_

_Katara_

====

_Katara,_

_I’m sorry that I could not reply sooner to your letter—I read it every day, though, and I hate that the Northern Water Tribe is not more open to your ideas._

_You have not accomplished nothing, though. Just by being there and speaking your mind you’re giving the younger girls someone to look up to. You’re showing them what’s possible._

_Have you considered training some of the girls there yourself? Having the right kind of teacher is so important, and maybe they’re hesitant because they fear how the male teachers will treat them. I know you flourished even under Pakku, but that’s because you’re one of the most gifted waterbenders I’ve ever seen. And I can’t believe I’m putting this in writing—please destroy this immediately—but I’m not a natural, and having Uncle teach me even the basics really made a difference for my confidence after I was banished._

_Say hi to Sokka for me when you see him._

_And I feel selfish saying it, because you live in the Fire Nation now and I get to see you all the time, but I miss you too._

_-Zuko_

_====_

_Dear Zuko,_

_I was really happy to get your letter. It was suspiciously empty of any explanation about how you are doing, though, so don’t leave that out next time or I’ll worry. _

_I think I’ve made some progress here. After a lot of cajoling I convinced two waterbending sisters to do some private training with me. They’re young, but quick learners—honestly I think they just want to be able to ask me questions about Aang, but I’ll take it. They’ve warmed up to me a little, and they told me that even without the rule about combat waterbending, they never thought anyone would accept a girl in those classes and that the teachers would favor the other boys since they already spend so much time together outside of the training._

_It really bothered me a lot. I feel overwhelmed, honestly. For a while I was the last waterbender from the Southern Water Tribe. There’s one or two more now, little toddlers, since the tribe is growing, but being in the North Pole made me realize that even with all the waterbenders here, I’m one of the only women who fights. And it’ll stay that way unless I do something about it._

_I’ve been worried a lot about Kaida, too, and the hospital. So many people need us, and I wish I could heal them all. She has better supplies, and she was obviously fine before me, I just…wish I was there to help._

_I also think about Yu Dao, and how important it is that we get it right there—if the coalition fails, I know it will be a big blow for our chances of co-existing peacefully with the other nations instead of being so separate. And I don’t want us to be separate._

_I just want to be in too many places, at once, I guess._

_Sokka says hello back, and that he is happy to have some sea prunes shipped to you if you want. I think he’s joking._

_With love,_

_Katara_

====

_Katara,_

_Of all the things you should worry about, I think I should be the last, but if it helps, I’m doing fine. Far too many people clamor for my attention this time of year, hoping for a more favorable budget allocation for their programs, or lower taxes, and it tests my patience most times. It doesn’t help that everything I do makes me a new enemy—I have learned quickly someone will always be unhappy with any choice I make. I just wish they would stop trying to kill me for it._

_I’m sorry that you’ve felt overwhelmed. Know that you are doing so much good, and that things will be okay without you, which I guess may not be that comforting, but I don’t want you to worry being so far away._

_We’re negotiating further in Ba Sing Se in six or seven months about Yu Dao, if you want to come. I think you could be a big help, since all this was your idea in the first place. I’ll admit it has been difficult, but it won’t fail. What we’re doing in Yu Dao is the future, for all the nations, I think._

_I feel about sea prunes the way you feel about fireflakes, if that answers your question. Also tell your brother he makes terrible jokes.  
_

_-Zuko_

====

_Dear Zuko,_

_More progress here in the North Pole, and it only took two shouting matches!_

_The girls I was working with have agreed to be enrolled in the combat waterbending classes—they’re a lot more confident now after working with me over the past two months, and I am so proud of them. On top of that success, a young boy approached me about taking Yugoda’s healing classes instead of learning to fight. That one took me by surprise, but I realize now I shouldn’t have been so narrow-minded. I had always thought that it would be true progress to let girls into the “boys only” training, but it never occurred to me that the boys may feel pressured in the same way. They’re told they have to be tough, they have to be warriors, and that healing isn’t an option for them. But they shouldn’t feel that way either._

_It’s just all so stupid. I wish I could say getting rid of all the men would solve the problem, but it wouldn’t. The older women want it to, tell their daughters they can only be healers. Some don’t, of course, but I never thought we’d be our own enemies._

_But it’s getting better. It has to. People are listening to me. Or pretend to._

_I hate that there are those that want to hurt you. I wish they would realize how good you are for the Fire Nation, the world. You are an amazing Fire Lord, and the New Ozai Society should fuck off. (Don’t tell Toph I said that.)_

_I hope you aren’t too lonely and you’re not working too hard. I’d love to visit Ba Sing Se with you._

_With love,_

_Katara_

_====_

_Katara,_

_People are listening to you, I know it. You are one of the most eloquent people I know. My speech at the summit was the best yet, people said. (And “people” are not just me and Uncle.)_

_I’m not lonely, or don’t have time to think about it anyway. I visited Azula the other day, which ironically is the most enjoyable social interaction I’ve had since it wasn’t about politics. She’s still very angry sometimes, or completely out of it, hallucinating about our mother. And then sometimes she’s like her old self, teasing me, but not being so relentlessly cruel that it’s almost endearing._

_Sorry, you probably don’t want to hear about all that._

_-Zuko_

_====_

_Dear Zuko,_

_You know I thought about it, and we haven’t talked about your sister since the war. I owe you an apology for that. All this time together, and I never asked, I never thought how hard it must be. ~~I wish I was back in the Fire Nation so I could hug you.~~_

_I did hate her during the war, especially after what she did in the Agni Kai, and maybe you did, too, but she was just a child, like we were. It doesn’t sound like she had your mother’s kindness to guide her. She made the wrong choices, but who was there to tell her the right ones? Can we blame her for not being strong like you at such a young age?_

_I feel sorry for her, which I guess she would hate. I really hope she gets better. She’s your sister, and if you still love her after all the awful things she did, that’s okay._

_With love,_

_Katara  
_

_====_

_Katara,_

_Azula is not exactly the most uplifting topic of conversation, so you shouldn’t be sorry. I probably wouldn’t have been too receptive to it anyway, if you’d tried to talk to me all those years ago. I didn’t do well with her, right after I became Fire Lord. I was impatient and angry. I would lose my temper with her—a fifteen year old girl out of her mind and imprisoned. I was an asshole, and I’m trying to do better._

_She’s not your sister, though. You have every right to stay angry at her for almost killing Aang and the others. Sometimes I thought I’d never forgive her for trying to hurt you in the Agni Kai. For you to have such compassion for her is more than she deserves. It’s more than I do, too._

_~~I miss you more every day.~~ I’m looking forward to seeing you soon._

_Yours,_

_Zuko_

_====_

_Dear Zuko,_

_You’re doing the best you can with Azula, and that’s all anyone can ask. You’re a good brother. Someday she’ll see that, if she hasn’t already._

_I would not say my work is complete here, but it’s been more than three months and I think I may actually be tired of the cold. I miss the warmth of the Fire Nation, as weird as that sounds._

_The waterbending classes are progressing well—sometimes the girls struggle, but they have each other, and I think some of their friends are showing an honest interest in the training, too. At the end of it all, I just told the old councilmen that maybe the solution to this problem is that everyone should get trained to fight and heal. So every person in the tribe is well-rounded and helpful in times of war or peace and no one feels like they have to do one thing or the other._

_Maybe it’ll work out. I hope so. I said I’d come back to visit soon and told anyone who wanted to that they could come visit me for lessons in the Fire Nation. Some actually may be interested in coming, and not just because they’ve heard about how cute the Fire Lord is. I think it would be really great, actually, for them to come—people in the Fire Nation know so little about waterbenders and vice versa. We’re not enemies anymore, and we should learn about each other. Like you and I did._

_Anyways, my ship leaves port tomorrow, so this is probably the last letter you’ll get before I see you._

_I can’t wait to be back. I’ve missed you._

_With love,_

_Katara_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope the letters format wasn't too much of a disaster, at least it made the chapter extra long :) 
> 
> Thanks to everyone who is taking the time to comment, I can't stress how much it means to me!


	15. Chapter 15

Katara returned to the Fire Nation after four months in the North Pole. Her reunion with Zuko was one of their best—it wasn’t even the longest time they’d been apart, but she still smiled until her cheeks hurt upon seeing him and threw herself into his arms when he opened them to her.

She had missed him, of course, like she missed Sokka and Toph when they were away, but being alone up in the North Pole had been—a new feeling. Since the war, she’d either been with Aang or her brother or Toph, Zuko now, and she’d been excited on the ship north to forge her own path somewhere on her own terms, but for all she did, in the end, it was also a little lonely. She had no one to commiserate with, to work with. Maybe that’s what she missed the most about the Fire Nation, other than the mangoes. Having a partner. 

Katara had a _lot_ to catch up on from her absence—her desk was overflowing with correspondence when she finally flung open the shudders on her window to let the light in and see the damage.

It was not just Southern Water Tribe business, though. Since her return, she had set her sights on the Fire Nation, the endless rivers of coin to be spent the next year. Zuko would scoff at that—he didn’t seem to think they had much money at all, but it was more than any other nation had, and she certainly had plans for it.

Part of that involved insisting that the other nations receive reparations and that international cooperation continue to be pursued, but—honestly she cared about the people in the Fire Nation, too. That wasn’t a new or surprising fact, she was the Painted Lady, after all, and traveling with Aang had taught her many things, including that the poor in the Fire Nation were just as much victims of Ozai as anyone else.

So she marched herself down to the council chambers one afternoon a week after she returned, massive stack of parchment in hand.

She spotted Zuko when she reached the hallway, who gave her a bewildered look.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

This may have been a _little_ bit of an ambush since she hadn’t told Zuko she wanted to directly participate.

“Dai is presenting an initial draft of the budget,” Katara said. 

Zuko shifted awkwardly. “Well, yes, but-,” He rubbed the back of his neck. “You know we discussed non-domestic aid yesterday.”

“I know,” she said. “But I want to talk about the hospitals. I’ve been reading this correspondence, and he’s not allocating nearly enough-,”

“I promise I’m doing everything I can,” he insisted. 

Her brow furrowed slightly. “Zuko, I don’t doubt you, I just want to be part.”

He winced. “I know, Katara, I know. It’s just-,” He stepped closer to her, maybe to make their conversation quieter outside the door. “You’re an ambassador from the Southern Water Tribe, so for issues not really related to the South Pole, your presence is somewhat—uh, controversial.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” she asked.

“If I invite you in here, then all the _other_ ambassadors will want to be present as well, and this is, you know-,” He cleared his throat. “-purely Fire Nation business-,”

She frowned. “I live in the Fire Nation.”

“Katara, you have to understand-,”

“Don’t use that tone with me,” she snapped, not intending to be so harsh, but _spirits_ was she tired of hearing that after her time in the North Pole being subject to the benevolent rejections of the elders there. 

“I don’t have a tone,” he said defensively.

“This is Kallik’s doing, isn’t it?” she demanded. “Him and—and _Dai_ , I’m sure.”

Kallik was the ambassador from the Northern Water Tribe, who given her muckraking in the North Pole last month was probably no longer her biggest fan. Dai, of course, never having been. 

Zuko made an exasperated sound. “You can’t just go around and demand whatever you want here, Katara.”

“You do!” 

“I’m the Fire Lord,” he replied with a huff.

She scowled deeply, crinkling the paper in her hands as she clenched her fist.

Her irritation wasn’t Zuko’s fault—he was right, he was Fire Lord, and had never asked to be given the job. He just _was_. Actually, that was more annoying. Fucking dropped into a society where he could do whatever he wanted, be what he wanted. Aang too. Sokka even. _She_ had to navigate the world wondering if depending on where she was, she’d be taken seriously or cast aside because she _happened_ to be a woman.

He also wasn’t technically _wrong_ about her position having limits in regards to her input in the Fire Nation. Ambassadors weren’t councilmembers, they were there to address issues specific to their home countries, and sometimes when sensitive information was being shared about the Fire Nation, it was right for her to be absent. She wasn’t _supposed_ to care about farm subsidies for low income farmers, hospital infrastructure, healthcare, but she did.

And maybe she wouldn’t _have_ to care if there was anyone else in the Fire Nation fighting for the right things, but there wasn’t. Zuko was constantly having to placate a million different interests, he had to fight for every inch, and maybe she would have to as well, but at least if she was in the room she could _try_. Instead of being told to scurry off until they bothered to talk about the Southern Water Tribe. 

Despite these thoughts, her anger lingered, was plain on her face and in her tone.

“I’m terribly sorry to waste your time, _Your Highness_ -,”

“Please don’t-,”

She shoved her papers into Zuko’s chest. “I’ll leave you to your Fire Nation business.”

“ _Katara_ -,”

She spun on her heel and marched away from him, furious this time, not confident, and she heard him make an annoyed noise behind her. _You’re so self-righteous, Katara_ , he would say, if she stayed, but that was _too bad_ because she was _right_.

====

Katara stormed right out of the palace after her conversation with Zuko—yes, she was being dramatic, and it wasn’t his fault, but she didn’t _care_. She was at her wit’s end hearing about what she _couldn’t_ do, what she needed to _understand_.

At least at the hospital they let her in the room, let her help. She figured she would spend the rest of the afternoon there, but as she followed along the high palace walls and crossed the cobblestone street, she spotted someone coming towards her.

Katara recognized Mai’s dark robes and silky hair as soon as she got close. She froze and tried not to look too uncomfortable as Mai stopped in front of her—according to Zuko, she’d gone to Kyoshi Island months ago and Katara had not spoken to her since. 

“M-Mai, uh, hello,” Katara said, utterly failing to be casual. “You’re back from the Earth Kingdom?”

Mai kept her hands clasped together in her robes, but gave a nod in greeting. “A few weeks ago,” she said.

“Did you—have a nice time?” Katara asked.

“I suppose,” she said, giving a half shrug. “Better than here.”

Perhaps she meant that because _Zuko_ was here, which was a conversation that was better _not_ to have, so she just smiled politely. “I’m glad you enjoyed, then.”

Mai tilted her head slightly, contemplating. “You know, I was just on my way to an awful luncheon being hosted by my mother—could I show you around instead?”

“Show me around?”

Mai gestured vaguely. “You know, around here. I’m sure Zuko hasn’t, and you told me I could. When you first came?”

“Right, right,” Katara said, and she didn’t necessarily regret making the offer, though what she and Mai would talk about, she didn’t know. A walk might be good for her sour mood at least. “And—sure, that would be great. I need a distraction.”

Mai removed one slender hand from her robes and gestured down a road leading further into the neighborhood around the palace, which honestly Katara hadn’t frequented since she had no interest in seeing such largesse. But still Katara followed her, and they walked in silence for a few moments. Katara noticed how quiet Mai’s footsteps were, dainty feet peeking out from her robes occasionally.

“I would ask how things are going at the palace, but I don’t really care,” Mai remarked. 

Katara sighed. “It wouldn’t be an interesting conversation anyway.”

“Politics not as heart-warming as you imagined?” she asked.

Another breath left her, hot this time, sharp. “They’re all so ancient and narrow-minded. And I know Zuko _tries_ , but—well, he’s all alone in there and-,” She stopped abruptly, realizing this rant was not particularly well-placed.

“I’m—I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t-,”

“What?” Mai began, brow raised slightly. “Mention Zuko’s name? As if I’m going to dissolve into a fit of tears?”

Katara flushed red. “No, no-,”

“I’m over it, trust me,” she said, with a practiced finality. 

“I understand. I just—know it’s hard,” Katara replied. “I mean, it was for me. Aang and I breaking up was the right choice when it happened, but I found myself still struggling afterwards.”

Mai gave a single nod. “Ah yes, that little guy.”

“Well, he’s—pretty tall now.”

She crinkled her nose. “I knew it would never work.”

“Me and him?” Katara asked.

“He _worshipped_ you. Total veneration,” Mai said. “He was suffocating you, and you were too nice to ask him to stop.”

That was—uncomfortably accurate. Mai certainly had quite the observational skills, perhaps since she spoke so little. Or maybe Zuko had told Mai more about Katara than she initially thought. Either way, she blushed harder, red up to her ears, thinking of how _not_ nice she was to Aang during their last conversation.

“I’m less nice now.”

“You’re not _really_ ,” Mai said. “Just way less into self-flagellation with it.”

That sounded _almost_ like a compliment, though it was hard to tell with Mai sometimes. Rather than talk about her failings further, Katara gestured weakly down the road.

“So what’s there to see around here?”

“Rich assholes?” Mai replied, then pointed across the street. “Also, the fruit tarts from that bakery are the best ones. For when you want a treat for putting up with the assholes.”

Katara gave a short laugh. “Good to know,” she said, then pushed her hair back from her shoulders as she craned her neck to look around. “I’ve—honestly never seen houses this big.”

“They didn’t spring up overnight,” Mai said. “There are a lot of families here that have been rich for many generations.”

“What about your family?” Katara asked.

Mai shook her head. “My father likes to put on airs, but we struggle to keep up sometimes. Really he’s just a middling politician lucky enough to have been favored by Ozai when he was starting out.” Her lips twisted into a faint scowl. “And now to salvage things my mother is trying to pair me off with the richest eligible bachelor she can find.”

Katara could commiserate with being forced to do things—or _not_ do things—for other people’s sake. “I’m sorry.”

Mai naturally shrugged off her pity. “I’ve fended off most attempts so far,” she replied. “Though this afternoon she was hoping I would shack up with Ryu, the son of Councilman Dai, who is _particularly_ onerous.”

Katara couldn’t help but make a disgusted sound. “Oh, we’ve met. For a grown man he acts a lot like a toddler.”

Mai tilted her head back to a large house with a verdant lawn behind them—it was an awkward shape compared to the ones around it, wedged in between much older buildings. “That’s his estate over there.”

“It looks newer,” she said. 

“Dai is a self-made man, that’s why people praise his money skills, since he made so much for himself,” Mai said. 

Katara was sure _self-made_ only went so far—probably had enough gold to make mistakes, which most people didn’t have. “What did he do?”

“Selling property, mostly, or renting it in rural areas,” Mai said. “Ryu does it too.”

Katara crossed her arms, unable to stop a frown from overtaking her expression. “Dai does everything he can to keep me out of important meetings,” she said. “I want more money for the hospitals, and there’s just _not room_ in the budget apparently.”

Mai feigned interest, though poorly. “I’m sure you’ll think of something.”

“That’s the problem,” Katara said exasperatedly. “I don’t know anything at all about how this works. I can’t make money appear out of thin air.” She rubbed her brow. “Unless we raise taxes, I guess.”

Mai gave a sharp laugh. “Yeah, would not recommend. Zuko did that already and poor guy was _not_ popular, even when it was necessary.”

They crossed the cobblestone street and Katara threw up her hands. “What about selling—I don’t know, all this ostentatious military infrastructure? The tanks and ships-,”

“Sell to who? The Earth Kingdom?” Mai began with a snort. “Think that’s a good idea?”

“No,” Katara muttered. 

They walked along in silence after that, Katara stewing, Mai breezily gliding along—she wished she was like Mai sometimes. She was so stoic, placid, if she had emotions she certainly didn’t let them run wild like Katara did.

Her ideas apparently ran _too_ wild because she slowed after a few moments and looked over at Mai.

“What about not _raising_ taxes, but still _collecting_ more?”

Mai gave her an incredulous look. “Are you having a stroke?”

“Surely there must be some nobles trying to lie about what they owe,” Katara insisted. 

“Yes, but Dai has men who investigate that,” Mai said. “You can’t find everyone.”

“It is possible, though, right?” she asked. 

“Sure, the taxes are a percentage of income or imported goods, so if you lie about those then you pay less,” Mai said, then furrowed her brow. “But what does that matter? It would be almost impossible to verify those things and there are _thousands_ of documents-,”

“I know, I know,” Katara said hastily after giving a groan. “It’s hopeless.”

Mai’s lip ticked up slightly. “You don’t need hope, you need luck.”

“You make it sound so easy.”

“It’s not,” Mai said. “There’s a reason I didn’t want to be Fire Lady.”

Katara cleared her throat and then laughed awkwardly. “Oh, I—I mean, I don’t either.”

Mai hummed beside her and said nothing, which only made Katara blush more furiously. She did believe that Mai had no further interest in her old relationship, but that did _not_ mean Katara wanted to contemplate in her presence something like being _married_ to _Zuko_. Yes, he was handsome, and kind and her best friend—and spirits, really _so_ incredibly handsome, and maybe there was a _little_ appeal to having access to a massive amount of institutional power that would _force_ people to listen to her ideas—

Katara decided it would be best for her to not mention Zuko or politics for the rest of the afternoon. For Mai’s sake, she told herself, but really for hers.

====

Katara’s conversation with Mai gave her an idea. A terrible, stupid idea, but she was really out of options for helping the hospital except more theft, which Zuko may let her get away with, but was not a long-term solution.

Dai would never agree to give her what she wanted, either, and Zuko clearly could not force him to help on her account—after a bad summer drought and some wildfires, she knew money was stretched thin enough. Flexing her muscle as his favorite ambassador really wouldn’t do her any favors.

So she went to the archives in the palace where thousands upon _thousands_ of documents were kept on all sorts of Fire Nation business, including tax collection.

She really just needed a little luck. To find some money somewhere, some miscalculation, some loophole. Except for the most part, she really couldn’t even _begin_ to understand all the numbers and notations and it felt like these things were _intentionally_ over complicated.

A number of candles were burned to little waxy nubs while she worked, hunched over a little desk or rooting among dusty bookshelves. She downed plenty of tea, but felt more energetic at night anyway, and a few shifts of attendants in the archives watched her with reserved curiosity as she worked, probably whispering about what a woman in a blue dress was doing in this part of the palace for this long.

She got a _little_ lucky. Or maybe it was delirium. Either way, though she probably wasn’t allowed, she swept armfuls of scrolls into her bag and hurried out of the archives, wincing when the early sun and cool morning air hit her face outside. 

After an entire night in the archives, Katara departed the palace. She wondered if the guards on duty noticed, if they reported it to Zuko, but if they did, no one followed her the further she rode out of the city. She found komodo rhinos terribly uncomfortable and uncooperative, but managed to establish some fragile cooperation with her mount as they rode out of the caldera.

The Fire Nation supported a modest amount of farming on the outskirts of the capital—the weather was temperate enough to yield a good harvest, though really not enough to sustain their growing population, which made trade with the Earth Kingdom more important than ever. Huge swaths of land were owned by noble families that was then leased to poorer families who supported themselves, or allotted to commercial growers who had contracts with the palace or merchants in the harbor.

Two hours outside the capital, Katara came upon a meager plot of land well off the main road. She and her komodo dragon had to slosh through the mud given the recent rain, and when she finally found an older man, with dark hair and skin tanned from the sun, ambling along with a woven basket, she was sweating and her dress was splattered with brown.

The man was obviously alarmed to see someone in water tribe blue on the road. 

She dismounted and stopped in front of him. “Hello, my name is Katara. I’m from-,”

“You’re the ice lady,” he interjected before she could finish.

Katara furrowed her brow—that name had been bandied about after her day in the harbor months ago but she wouldn’t call it a title. “Um, I guess-,”

He gestured back down the lane to his small house. “My sister lives in the capital, was all in a twist a few months ago during the heat wave about some water tribe woman making ice for them. Big deal on a hot day like that.”

“You just assumed I’m the same person?”

“Is there a single _other_ waterbender in the Fire Nation right now?” he asked.

“Well, no,” Katara admitted. “But—but maybe that will change someday.”

His arms were straining under the weight of the basket in his arms and he plopped it beside his feet. “Well in the meantime, what do you want?”

Katara brought her knapsack around to her front and fumbled for some papers inside. “I don’t want to take up too much of your time, but do you own this land that you farm?”

The man laughed, but seeing that she was serious, just shook his head after. “Uh, no, we certainly don’t,” he said. “Though my family has worked this land for generations.”

“A man named Ryu owns it then,” she said.

“Got it as a gift from his father, but yes,” he replied. “In exchange for a share of our crops and some coin, we live in the house up there and sell the remaining harvest.”

_House_ was a generous word for the structure he was pointing to, but Katara tried not to dwell on that and shuffled through her papers. She presented a figure to the man.

“Is this how much you pay him?” she asked.

The man’s eyes widened before another chuckle left him. “Uh, no, perhaps my grandfather was lucky enough to pay that little, but it’s almost double that.”

Katara smiled, it was probably wicked, and confusing to the farmer, but she didn’t care.

“Thank you for your time.”

====

Zuko’s councilmembers each had their own offices in the non-residential wing of the palace. Apparently when many of Ozai’s former allies were ousted there was quite a bit of jockeying among the new members to get assigned the _best_ office, and of course Councilman Dai managed to secure that position for himself.

His office was large and airy—very _red_ , of course, overlooking the public gardens of the palace. Katara steeled herself at the threshold and walked in without preamble, trying to keep her sweating palms from smudging the ink on the scrolls in her hands.

“Councilman Dai,” she said. “May I have a moment of your time?”

He was sitting at his desk, ornate sleeves embroidered with gold thread splayed out across his desk. His clothes were the finest of any councilmember, even Zuko—new money trying to prove something, if Mai’s assessment was right.

Dai scrutinized her, eyes narrowed, before he spoke. “If you must.”

Katara would not let herself be deterred by his frigid tone and walked further inside. “I’ve been thinking to myself how I can find more coin to help the hospital in the harbor.”

“I don’t recall that being in the purview of the ambassador from the Southern Water Tribe,” he remarked, attention back on the scroll in his hand because he could not respect her _less_. 

“Call it a hobby, then.”

Dai gave a snort. “I see. And in your free time, have you somehow managed to conjure that coin from thin air?”

She took another step forward and dropped the scrolls in her hands on his desk with quite a clatter. “No, but I did find out your son is cheating on his taxes,” she said with a smile. 

Dai had leaned back after she inundated his desk. He looked up at her, lips pursed tight. “I don’t know how they do things in the South Pole, but it is highly inappropriate for you to come to me slinging accusations-,”

“I didn’t come here with an accusation, I came here with proof,” Katara said. 

His frown deepened. “How exactly did you get into the archives?”

“I asked nicely.”

Dai scooted forward in his chair, running ink-stained fingers along what she’d thrust unceremoniously in front of him. He let out a breath after a few moments--since he was kind enough to gift parcels of land to his son, no doubt he knew the amount Ryu was _supposed_ to report as income.

“I see.”

Katara leaned forward slightly. “You know, I would have a lot to say if the senior-most finance minister in the Fire Nation was helping his annoying adult son break the law, but-,” She clenched her jaw since she was loathe to think of Dai as anything other than a villain. “I suspect you’re not aware of what Ryu is doing.”

Dai’s eyes flicked up, face stoic. “It seems I did not teach my son the lessons I learned growing up,” he admitted, then laced his fingers together. “But please, tell me your plan for this blackmail, Ambassador Katara.”

She stiffened. “I’m not blackmailing you-,”

“Whatever they call it in the South Pole-,”

“Your son broke the law, he should have to pay the money,” she snapped. “I’m not blackmailing you, I’m doing you a favor.”

“Are you?” he asked, brow raised. 

“I can go to Zuko—Ryu will be imprisoned _and_ have to pay.”

Dai looked downright disgusted now, lips twisted into a scowl, before he relented. “And what exactly can I do to repay you for this _kindness_ , Ambassador Katara?”

“Sounds like you’ll have quite the budget surplus once Ryu pays what is owed,” she said. “Perhaps there are some projects in the harbor worthy of your attention.”

He was quiet for a few moments, scrutinizing her again. “I’ll see what I can do,” he eventually replied, sour expression not fading. “Thank you for your—discretion.”

“Thank you for your time, Councilman.”

Katara gave a satisfied smirk and turned to exit his office when he spoke.

“With a little polish, you might be a worthy councilwoman, you know.”

She paused and looked over her shoulder, face falling. “I’m from the Southern Water Tribe.”

“Perhaps you haven’t learned given your—inexperience, but you should take power where you can get it.”

“I’m not like you,” Katara said immediately, frowning now. 

“No, you’re not,” he said. “But don’t worry, Ambassador, I’m sure they’ll let you in the room someday.”

Her jaw twitched, but she knew better to engage, so she merely glared at him and made it the rest of the way out of the room.

Katara wanted to feel more victorious, but Dai’s words bothered her, his condescending tone, but also that he made a salient point. She was sitting around upset that she wasn’t allowed where she wanted, but wasn’t there a solution to that problem? Wasn’t there something _better_ then being ambassador since her concerns had never ended with the South Pole anyway?

Zuko’s entire council was present for discussions about reparations and international cooperation and _then_ they got to dictate events in the Fire Nation, too, or in the Earth Kingdom. She’d obviously hated it once, but the Fire Nation was powerful, and led by someone she trusted now. If she could play a hand in directing that mass of resources, it wouldn’t be so bad.

She would be good at it, too, if given the chance, and would bring valuable perspective. She liked living in the Fire Nation, liked the people who were here, and if she could make a difference—well, it was just a matter of getting Zuko to agree.

====

Zuko tried not to be offended that Katara did not seek out his company in the days following their exchange about the council meeting—he of course felt guilty denying her, but he could not with a straight face tell the other fuming ambassadors that for some reason _other_ than personal attachment Katara was allowed into any meeting she wanted. He tried to make his favoritism of her not so blatantly obvious, though that was becoming difficult lately for—a lot of reasons.

He changed out of his heavy robes in the early evening after a solitary dinner and sought out Katara’s room, though as he walked through the gardens and then down the hall his confidence wavered. When he reached her door, he gave the weakest of knocks, hoping she’d not hear it and he could run away.

No such luck, of course, and the door swung open, Katara appearing in front of him. She smiled, to his surprise.

“Come in.”

She walked away just as quickly as she spoke, back to her desk, where the fading sunlight from the window was cast over a mass of scrolls.

He cleared his throat. “Listen, Katara, about the other day, I—I did have a tone. I’m sorry.”

“Thanks, Zuko,” she said, turning to him and putting her hands on his robes—not the regalia, so he felt her cool hands through fewer layers than usual and hoped he didn’t spontaneously combust. “But I’m going to need you to make it up to me.”

Katara had a very nice smile, but the one currently on her face was very, _very_ mischievous, downright diabolical, so he shifted uncomfortably.

“I—don’t like where this is going.”

She shook her head. “Oh, don’t worry, I would never leverage your position as Fire Lord to give me more access as an ambassador, I completely understand what you meant the other day.”

That was not as reassuring as he would have guessed. He narrowed his eyes slightly. “So what _do_ you want?”

She looked entirely nonchalant, and he knew he was in trouble.

“I need you to appoint me to your council.”

“Uh, what?”

“It’s a pretty straightforward request-,”

“My _Fire Nation_ council?”

She stepped back. “I want to do the most good. And that requires resources. Power over resources,” she said, then her smile faded slightly. “I don’t care who has them.”

He reached up to rub his neck. “I promise I’m trying-,”

“I want to be in the _room_ , Zuko,” she interjected, tone exasperated. “Okay? This one—in the Earth Kingdom, all of them. Like you are.” 

He was frankly having trouble processing her request, as much as it—terrified and excited him.

“Katara, are you sure this is what you want?”

She hesitated and then gave a sharp exhale. “I know—I know it’s-,” She fiddled with her unbound hair. “A little crazy, maybe. But I thought about it, and Dai gets just as much say about what goes to the Southern Water Tribe as me, really, but he _also_ gets to advise you about everything else, and you get to be— _in_ everything else.”

“Katara-,”

“And it will be good for you, too, the whole Fire Nation,” she insisted. “I mean, do you have any idea how much perspective I can bring to that group of _ancient_ old rich men?”

“Ming is a woman but-,”

She continued, undeterred. “You should _want_ me in that room, I can say what you can’t, we can fight _together_ -,”

He put his hands on her shoulders, stopping her. “Katara,” he said. “If this is what you really want, of course I’ll do it.”

She beamed again, and he instinctively brought her a little closer, only for her to clamp her hands on his elbows to stop him, wrenching absolutely _all_ the air out of his lungs. His only thought was that _this_ is why he should never try anything that was only going to result in his fumbling.

“We shouldn’t,” she said, and he wished she would let go so he could jump headfirst through the open window.

Zuko apparently wasn’t hiding his crestfallen expression well, and she gave a little laugh. “Spirits, Zuko, don’t act like I kicked a turtleduck,” she said. “I just-,” She hesitated and tightened her grip on him. “I want to make sure you aren’t doing this just because we’re friends.”

He felt a stab of guilt—he wasn’t doing it _just_ because they were friends. Katara was incredibly intelligent and compassionate and would bring valuable perspective that he sorely needed to his team of advisors, but—but also the thought of her leaving the Fire Nation filled him with so much dread he would do pretty much anything she asked to get her to stay.

“No, of course not,” he said. “I-I think you would do a really good job.”

Katara dropped her hands. “People may be upset. I’m only 19.”

“I’m not much older,” Zuko said with a shrug. “And your credentials do include winning an Agni Kai against the previous Fire Lord. Ending a war. Better qualifications than _ancient_ and _born rich_.”

She laughed. “I changed my mind, I want to hug.”

Katara wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing against him, and he used to limply place his hands on her back when she hugged him, but he was weak now and soothed his hand over her hair and squeezed her back.

“Are you really sure, Katara?” he eventually asked. “This is—well, a longer-term thing-,”

She held on to him, speaking with her head tucked under his chin. “I’m sure,” she said, then paused and leaned back to look up at him. “Unless you’re going to keep me prisoner in the Fire Nation or something?”

“No, no,” he said hastily. “I would _never_ -,” 

“Then I want to,” she assured him. “I—like it here. I like you. So, why not.”

He was blushing, stupidly, it’s not like he didn’t know Katara _liked_ him, they were friends, yet hearing that made his heart hammer in his chest, which made him more self-conscious given their proximity.

“I’m so lucky to have you here, Katara. Really.”

She smiled wider at him, and he was far too selfishly, deliriously happy with this development to not also feel a little guilty. But before he could assuage himself further, Katara was untangling herself and stepping back.

“Also, I should mention that Dai has agreed to additional funding for the hospitals,” she said. “He may call it blackmail but-,”

“ _What_?”

She was not fazed by his astonished expression and patted his cheek. “I was really doing him a favor more than anything-,”

“I’m not sure that’s-,”

“Okay, well, lots to do, bye Zuko!” she interrupted merrily, and he made an exasperated sound at her as she hurried out of her room, him trailing behind as usual.

He wondered if he should have made what was arguably a monumental decision in such a short amount of time, but even upon contemplation, he would not have denied Katara the ability to help more people. Help him. Be _around_ him.

Zuko knew he was in serious trouble. Knew it when he dreamed about her, when he missed her so much while she was in the North Pole, but it was enough, for now, that she was here, as his partner and friend. Who was he to ask for more, when she was already giving so much for his country?

If this was all he got, forever, not risking more for fear of losing the whole of it, that would have to be enough. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not an accountant, just a sad, sad lawyer but decided I should talk about taxes anyway (like an idiot).


	16. Chapter 16

Some days Katara regretted her choice. Regretted it _all_. Her self-doubt consumed her, and she wondered how she ever thought she had the skills that her friends had. To make a difference, to be _important_. Sometimes she wanted to wrap herself in her furs in the South Pole and hide away from the sneers and the sideways looks and the condescending tones of the people who doubted her. 

Luckily her anger was always more potent than her fear or despair, and most times she quickly crushed those feelings into dust and scattered them to the wind. If she sat mired in insecurity, who would fight for the people that needed it? If she didn’t seize this opportunity, who would?

Still, she tried to take things slow as a council member. She knew she’d be prone to outburst on occasion and figured it was best to observe the others, understand them, before championing too much, too fast.

Most of their meetings were long, and tedious, and Katara sat at the end of an ornate table facing Zuko because as the junior-most council member she got the worst seat that was furthest from him. It maybe wasn’t the worst view for someone mildly _attracted_ to the Fire Lord, but that was beside the point because she was _not that_.

One month into her tenure, Dai closed out a particularly painstaking meeting—Katara wasn’t even paying attention, really, just stacking her papers while he droned on.

“Great Sage Shyu has again requested your presence for a number of-,”

“No,” Zuko interjected, which made Katara look up. “I don’t have the time for that.”

Dai shook his head. “I know that these things seem like—remote concerns, but _eventually_ you will need to select a wife and begin having-,”

Zuko may as well have cringed. “I am less than four years into my reign-,”

“But also _twenty-one_ -,”

“The Fire Nation requires my full focus,” Zuko insisted. “I’m hardly a spinster, Dai. There is time.”

Katara found herself blushing and quickly looked down. Twenty-one didn’t seem terribly old to her, even if in some places around the world you were supposed to be married off by sixteen. She hated that so much pressure was being put on him about something so—intimate. Maybe she hated it for other reasons, too, that she didn’t want to think about surrounded by a bunch of old councilmen who only thought of her as a giggling child.

Ming crossed her arms from the middle of the table. “The monarchy would be safer with an heir.”

“I understand,” Zuko said. “And I promise it’s under consideration.”

Katara wondered what _under consideration_ meant. If he had found someone, he hadn’t mentioned it to her. She hoped he wasn’t caving in to the pressure, which would not be fair to him. Though maybe she shouldn’t be so _personally_ offended about it.

Another councilman, Zhen, snorted. “Councilwoman Ming’s just mad that you won’t marry her niece.”

“Don’t think I didn’t see your second cousin wondering the gardens last month, Zhen,” she shot back. 

Zuko raised a hand. “Tell Shyu that this will have to wait,” he said. “And if that’s all the business for today, you’re dismissed.”

There was some grumbling, but clearly the matter was considered closed. Zuko was the first to stand and leave the room, per custom, and the others followed. Katara quietly gathered up her things while the other council members left in small clusters or pairs.

She was through the door, one of the last, when she realized she had forgotten a few of her papers. She turned back around, catching the door a few millimeters before it shut. When she was about to cross through, she heard some voices inside that made her stop.

“Did you speak with him about the construction delays in the harbor?”

“Not yet,” a voice replied. “We can’t all get a private audience with him like the _ice lady_.”

There was a derisive, half-suppressed laugh. “Has anyone told our Fire Lord that he should make council appointments with his head and not his cock?”

Katara’s blood ran cold, two quick seconds paralyzed by shock, before hot tears welled up in the corner of her eyes.

She could not let the tears fall, let them _see_ , so she quietly turned on her heel to hurry down the hall. Once she spun around, she ran straight into someone behind her and made a startled sound.

It was Dai, lips pursed, like they always were when the two of them spoke.

“What do you want?” she asked immediately, trying to keep her voice from wavering.

His eyes flicked over to the door—he looked _amused_ and she felt her anger surging. “Don’t look so upset, Master Katara.”

She scowled, though she knew her lips were trembling. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Did you think this would be easy?” he asked. “That they’d all like you and respect you? A nineteen year old _waterbender_?”

“I don’t care what they think,” she replied hoarsely.

“You should,” he said. “You can’t rely on Zuko-,”

“I do not _rely_ on Zuko,” she snapped. “I don’t need him.” 

“You sleep in his house, don’t you?” Dai asked. “You eat his food, you-,”

She would have breathed fire if she could. “Those _assholes_ in there disparaging me have not worked a day in their _lives_ -,”

Dai raised a wrinkled hand to shush her, and she almost snapped at him again, but knew he was right to stop her, though the thought made her jaw clench tight. 

“You will not win by insulting them,” he said, then he shoved some papers into her hands. “You need to review this hospital proposal. I noticed some errors, and you cannot afford to make any mistakes.”

She’d poured days—and nights—of work into the report. Her heart clenched tight, tears threatening to break free again, because she just wanted to get it _right_ and—and it wasn’t so easy.

A heavy sigh left her. “I’ll try again,” she said.

Dai had turned on his heel, and she spoke impulsively, like she did most things.

“Would you help me?”

He paused, and she cringed internally, afraid he’d laugh at her, accuse her of weakness—spirits, she had been so _stupid_ -

“Tomorrow morning,” he said. “We firebenders like to rise early.”

She tried to search his face for any trace of deviousness, but knew she would not find anything, maybe because she was too naïve or he was too good at appearing stoic. He could try to sabotage her all he wanted, but it wouldn’t hurt to spend more time with other council members, and wasn’t she supposed to keep her enemies closer anyway?

Dai never seemed to like her, but at least he was honest and respected her. Or had the decency to be rude to her face as opposed to behind her back.

Katara nodded once. “I’ll be there.”

He disappeared down the hallway, and she returned shortly after to her room, sitting timidly on the bed and then crying into her furs, at least for a little, because she _knew_ her role was controversial, she _knew_ people thought she was a little favorite of Zuko rather than there on her own merit, or worse that she was sleeping with him and trying to manipulate him. It was all _wrong_ , but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt sometimes.

Worse was that she could never tell Zuko. He would completely flip, which was its own problem, and she didn’t want him solving her problems for her, trying to protect her, because then the snotty words being said about her would be _right_.

When she was a visitor, or an ambassador, Zuko hosting her in the palace was hardly controversial. But she’d been here many, _many_ months, eaten many meals, been waited on by many handfuls of servants—it made her feel out of touch, and it _was_ technically favoritism.

She hated it, but Dai was right. She’d have to move out of the palace.

====

Zuko ate breakfast on his private terrace now that the weather was nicer. It was never really a leisurely breakfast, Katara assumed, more like reviewing reports in between bites of food, but at least he was eating. She sought him out there early, before she was supposed to meet with Dai. He was surprised to see her awake, much less in his room, but hastily offered her some tea and a seat.

She settled across from him, and he pushed aside all the mango on his plate and offered it to her.

“If you’re hungry,” he said.

Her appetite hadn’t quite returned since the awfulness of the meeting yesterday afternoon, but she smiled weakly and poked at a few pieces anyway.

“Are you alright, Katara?” he asked, after a few moments of her sitting in silence.

She looked up at him. “I think I need to move out of the palace.”

It had not been her intention to spring the idea on him, but that was the effect given the look on his face.

“Did something happen?” he asked, brow furrowed in alarm.

“No, no,” Katara said hastily. “It’s just—none of the other councilmembers live here-,”

“They’re massive wealthy people who have their own estates,” he said. “They don’t need the palace.”

“That’s not the point,” Katara insisted. “You pay for—well, everything.”

“You’re my friend-,”

“I don’t want to be your _friend_ anymore, Zuko,” she interjected, too harshly, and an exasperated sound left her as he recoiled. “Spirits, not like that. It’s just—I’m not a visitor anymore, or an ambassador, this isn’t a vacation. I want to make it on my own.”

Zuko was quiet for a few moments, eyes on his plate, before he shrugged. “If that’s what you really want, the royal family owns some property outside the palace that-,”

“That’s more of the same,” she said, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “I don’t want to live in your house, or spend your money.”

“You’re being ridiculous, Katara,” he said, leaning back. 

Her eyes snapped up. “I’m _not_ , it’s only fair-,”

A little frown was tugging on his lip. “You’re just over-thinking it, the palace is mostly empty, there’s no reason-,”

“I don’t _want_ to live here anymore, Zuko,” she said, trying to convey finality, which it did, except he scowled in response. 

“Fine,” he said. “Then don’t. You never care about my opinion anyway.”

Katara huffed and gave him a critical look. “Seriously?”

“Just forget it,” he muttered. He pretended to start eating again but set his cup down with far too much force. 

She matched his frown. “If you just told me what was _actually_ bothering you-,”

“I don’t want you to leave, alright?” he began abruptly. “Is that so awful?”

Katara _wanted_ to still be annoyed with him, maybe if they weren’t so close or compatible, people wouldn’t be so snide, but her heart betrayed her and clenched tight.

“It’s—it’s not,” she admitted. 

“I’m sorry,” he said with a sigh. “I’m being an asshole.”

She crossed her arms. “You’re acting like I’m moving hundreds of miles away.”

He ran his fingers through his hair. “I know it won’t be far, it’s just-,” His hand flopped into his lap, dejected. “A big place to have all to myself.”

Katara also hated the thought of him in this massive palace of bad memories all alone, but she wasn’t doing this for him, and he’d have to accept that. That was harsh, though, and it’s the last thing she wanted to be, so she tried to deflect instead.

“You won’t be alone forever,” she said with a teasing smile. “Not if the Fire Sages get their way.”

He was not entertained, and his eyes flicked up to her. “It’s your safety, too, you know,” he said. “The New Ozai Society is still out there-,”

“I can take care of myself, I promise,” she said. 

A scarlet color like his robes ran up his cheek. “I know—I wasn’t-,” He rubbed his neck. “I didn’t mean to imply you can’t.”

“Once I move, I promise you’ll still have to see me entirely too much for your liking.”

“That’s not possible,” he said immediately, and blushed harder. “Sorry, uh—if-,” He cleared his throat. “If you want to do this, you should. I can pay you a regular salary and—you know, whatever else.”

She shifted in her chair, hands balled in her lap. “Thank you.”

They were quiet for a few moments, Zuko’s eyes still on his plate. “You would tell me if I’m doing something wrong, right?”

Spirits, she wished this—this soft _idiot_ would stop making her heart hurt so badly, as if _he’d_ ever be the reason she wanted to leave. Didn’t he know how good he was, how deeply she cared for him, how she fell to pieces sometimes when he looked at her-

She stopped because she knew couldn’t fall further, not now, yesterday’s cruel words still ringing in her ears, which wasn’t Zuko’s fault, and it wasn’t _fair_.

He was concerned by her silence and she tried to smile again.

“I don’t think I’ve ever had a problem criticizing you when needed,” she said softly. 

That seemed to comfort him a little. “Right,” he said, a half empty laugh leaving him. “How could I forget?”

She stood, reaching out to gently soothe some of his hair from his eyes. “I’ve got to run to a meeting,” she said, when her hand was back at her side. “I promise this isn’t all bad, Zuko.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” he said. “I was—an idiot.”

“We can agree on that much,” she said, as she gave his shoulder a little nudge once she passed him. “I’ll see you this afternoon.”

He bid her farewell before turning back to his reports, and Katara hurried out the door for her meeting with Dai. She was glad that Zuko had at least begun to understand her need to be on her own, for now, but of course she had failed to mention a rather significant roadblock to her plan, which was that other than _not_ being in the palace, she really had _no idea_ where she was supposed to live.

====

Katara’s things were easy to pack, simple to transport, but short of crisscrossing the streets of the capital, she had no idea how to find a new home. Zuko was far too concerned about it, but she did need to consider her safety, or at least that many people would balk at the prospect of hosting a member of the Fire Nation’s council. 

Katara decided to visit the hospital in the mid-morning after her meeting with Dai. She walked straight up to Kaida with no preamble, which is the way the woman much preferred to interact.

“I need a place to live,” Katara announced, to get her attention. 

Kaida looked up from her basket of supplies with a skeptical look. “Palace not big enough for you?”

“No-,”

“Lover’s quarrel, then?”

Katara huffed. “We didn’t have a fight-,” She stopped and reddened, realizing her error before she continued sputtering. “I mean we aren’t _lovers_!”

Kaida was _highly_ entertained, lip curled up, but said nothing. “So why would you want to leave?” she asked.

“I want to be on my own,” Katara said. 

She shook her head. “None of the places I know about are going to be fit for a woman on the Fire Lord’s council.”

“I want to live in a normal place,” Katara insisted. “At least one of us shouldn’t be holed up in some mansion.”

Kaida stopped what she was doing and straightened to face her. “You sure you want that?” she asked. “It’s not so nice down here.”

“I used to live in an igloo with three other people,” Katara replied. “I’ll manage.”

Kaida’s eyes narrowed slightly, but she relented with another shake of her head.

“Alright, follow me.”

Kaida led her out of the hospital, after instructing Airi and Hana not to burn the place down while they were gone. The two of them walked up a few streets, to a slightly nicer part of town, but still nowhere near the palace.

They entered a small tea shop and went straight to the counter, where a short, dark-haired man waved enthusiastically upon seeing them.

“Kaida, hi-,”

She did not let him finish speaking. “This is my brother, Makoto,” she said to Katara. “He runs this shop.”

Katara smiled at him, thinking he was far too polite to be related to Kaida.

“I’m Katara,” she said. 

He gestured to her dress as he rounded the counter. “Oh, I know,” he replied. “Kaida talks about you all the time-,”

“Traitor,” Kaida muttered, giving him an elbow to the ribs when he stopped next to her. “Is that room in your attic still available?”

“We need to fix up the roof a little, but yes,” Makoto said, then he turned to her. “Are you interested?”

Katara gave it a few seconds of thought, but she certainly took Kaida’s approval as a strong indicator that she’d be okay here. And considering she basically lived outside for a year, an attic wasn’t so bad. 

“If you wouldn’t mind me as a tenant,” she said. 

“The _ice lady_?” he began, then chuckled. “No, I don’t think we’d mind that at all.”

Kaida scowled. “She’s not going to sit around all day making cold tea for you.”

“Though I am happy to help in any way I can,” Katara added.

Makoto gestured up the small set of stairs behind them. “I’ll clean up the room a bit, and get my son to finish patching up the roof,” he said. “It’s small and gets pretty hot in the summers. I hope that’s okay.”

Katara smiled. Any place void of servants tending to her every need worked for her.

“It sounds great,” she said.

Both looked at her like she was a little crazy given her level of enthusiasm, but she didn’t care. The room would be _hers_ and that’s what mattered.

====

Zuko had very, _very_ little room to further insert himself into Katara’s decision about moving out of the palace, considering the ass he’d made of himself the first time they spoke about it.

To be fair, it _was_ sudden. But rather than talk to Katara about that, he’d let a sad, desperate, little piece of self-doubt whisper that she wanted to leave _him_ , that all the warmth he saw in her smile was some pathetic illusion and she would soon hate him, again, because he deserved it.

So when Katara told him the next day that she was moving into some _attic_ in the harbor, he shut his mouth and only nodded. She seemed excited, and at any hint of discomfort on Zuko’s part, she was _very_ quick to point out that he once lived above a tea shop himself. He wanted to say that an attic was different than his and Uncle’s apartment, and he’d just been _Lee_ then, but thought better of making the comparison.

She was gone within a few days after that, and walking through the gardens in the mornings was a painful reminder of it because the window she’d often wave to him from was now empty. He felt completely ridiculous, thinking how hollow the halls felt, or that he _missed_ her, when he still saw her every day across a long table, where he dutifully avoided eye contact with her otherwise he’d blush furiously in what was supposed to be a professional setting. 

Zuko insisted that he come to the harbor to see the place once she was settled, though that was met with some resistance by the palace guards. He managed to placate them by asking Suki to accompany him, both of them in plain clothes.

The walk was decently far, to his chagrin, and she was not living in a particularly wealthy part of town, though in her defense it wasn’t squalor, either. Definitely a lifestyle any other council member would regard with utter horror.

They spotted Katara in the road immediately, always striking in blue. She spun and smiled wide at them, which only made his knees weak.

“What are you two doing here?” she asked.

Suki gestured to the tea shop. “We came to see your place.”

Katara hummed and raised an eyebrow. “You mean Zuko wanted to complain about it?”

“It’s not terribly secure,” he remarked with a critical look.

“I can protect myself,” Katara insisted. “If anything happens, which it won’t, we can re-evaluate.”

 _If it’s not too late then_ , he thought to himself, which gutted him, but he knew if he said that, Katara would accuse him of being _relentlessly negative_ when it was really just being _realistic_.

So instead he gave a heavy sigh that slanted his shoulders. “Just know that the palace is always welcome to you.”

Katara smiled slightly and squeezed his arm. “Thanks, Zuko.”

She turned her head when she heard someone behind them—a younger man was climbing down some narrow scaffolding on the side of the house. He was tall, with dark hair, most striking for whatever _dumb_ reason was the fact that he was not wearing a _shirt_ —

He raised a hand to Katara. “Roof should be all fixed up,” he said.

“Guess we’ll know for sure next time it rains,” she said.

He laughed at what was arguably not even a joke. “Let me know if I can do anything else for you.”

Suki raised an eyebrow as he disappeared back to the shop.

“He seemed very eager to fix the roof for you,” she remarked. 

Katara gave a little laugh. “No, no, his dad made him,” she insisted, though she was blushing. “He’s Kaida’s nephew. Lee.”

“ _Lee_?” Zuko repeated incredulously. 

Katara gave him a bewildered look. “It’s a very common name in the Fire Nation, I think.” 

Zuko said nothing, simmering in silence. As if it wasn’t bad enough that she _left_ , he now got to imagine Katara hanging around some stupid, handsome, unscarred man who apparently found clothing optional. The only _Lee from the Fire Nation_ Katara should be dating was _him_ and—and he had that thought and considered perhaps abdicating his throne to Iroh because he sounded _insane_.

They did not spend much longer in the street—Katara wanted to get to the hospital and Zuko couldn’t exactly plop down in the tea shop for a brew without drawing too much attention, so Suki tugged him along back to the palace.

As they walked along the street, he pulled his hood lower on his face to hide his scowl. They had been heading back in silence, when Suki looked over at him.

“Can I give you some advice?”

“I guess,” he said. 

Suki hesitated for a moment before she spoke. “I know that you care about Katara. Like, _a lot_ -,”

“I don’t-,”

She waved her hand. “Spare me the song and dance,” she said. “I just—I want you to know that I get how you’re feeling.”

“What do you mean?” Zuko asked. 

Suki ran a hand through her cropped hair, a sigh leaving her. “A few months ago, when Sokka was attacked in the palace, I-,” She stopped and shook her head. “I just lost it. Thinking of him being hurt or worse, when I’m the one who’s supposed to keep everyone safe-,”

“It wasn’t your fault, Suki,” he replied gently. 

“I wanted to lock him up in a room somewhere and never let him out, so I could protect him,” she said. “Watching him return to the South Pole, alone, was—it was difficult.”

“I’m sorry.”

Suki looked over at him. “I can see you want to protect Katara. That you think if anything were to happen to her, it would be your fault.”

He wanted to say it was different, that it really _would_ be his fault because anyone who wanted to hurt him would really do the most damage going after Katara.

“Well it would be-,”

“You can’t hold her back, Zuko, okay?” she cut in, tone still gentle. “Trust me.”

He retreated further into his cloak. “Is that what you think I’m doing? Holding her back?” he began, frowning. “Because I—I want her to be _safe_?”

“If you don’t let her make her own choices, she will push you away,” Suki insisted. 

“So what is the advice, exactly?” he asked. “You’re telling me I’m an awful friend because I care about Katara too much to let her be _reckless_?”

Suki shook her head. “When you love someone, sometimes the thought of losing them is so terrifying you just—can’t help but be over-protective.”

He looked away, blushing, though Suki couldn’t see. She was right—he hoped she didn’t realize just _how_ right she was, that his completely inappropriate attachment to Katara wasn’t so blatantly obvious because that would just make it pathetic.

It was true that he couldn’t stand—couldn’t even _bear_ the thought of Katara getting hurt, and yet she only bristled when he was earnest about her safety, parroting over and over that she could take of herself. But she could still get hurt, and he’d lost so much, a brash part of him did want to keep her close, always, not because she wasn’t strong, but because _he_ was weak.

Katara would hate that. _Did_ hate that and the last thing he really wanted was for her to be unhappy.

“I trust Katara,” he eventually said. “I do.”

Suki patted his arm. “She wouldn’t be _Katara_ if she was holed up in a room somewhere in the palace.”

“Thank you, Suki,” he said, then cleared his throat. “And listen, Katara and I haven’t exactly-,” 

“Your secret is safe with me,” she whispered, leaning a little closer with a smirk.

He huffed. “It’s not a _secret_ -,”

“Oh, so Katara knows?” she said, brow raised. 

“There’s nothing to—to _know_ ,” he insisted. “I’m not admitting that I—that there’s-,”

Suki said nothing, waiting with an expectant look for him to drag himself out of the hole he’d been digging for months. Sadly there was no escape and he eventually just gave a quiet groan.

“Please don’t tell Sokka,” he muttered. 

She laughed sharply at that, but then quickly covered her mouth to avoid mortifying him further.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” she assured him.

Somehow Zuko doubted that, but it was possible he was too far gone for it to matter anyway.

====

Katara stayed in her new room in the harbor for over a week without incident, and at the palace, instead of her old desk beside her bed, she was given an office with the rest of the council members. The smallest one, with the worst view, but she happily accepted it and filled it with Southern Water Tribe trinkets and furs. She did the same with her new room, especially since it was decently drafty in the mornings or at night when it was a little chilly, but that was a welcome change from the sweltering summer.

She was hurrying up the street one day, a few hours before sunset, though it was hard to tell considering the sheet of gray clouds hanging low in the sky. She could sense the rain, prickling the air, and though she wasn’t necessarily concerned about getting wet, she did have some papers in her bag that she’d rather not get soaked.

A man in a cloak was walking from the other direction towards her, and she stopped abruptly—Zuko had to wear one when he was out, but honestly it wasn’t that good of camouflage because most people didn’t walk around with a hood over their head.

“Zuko, what are you doing here?” she asked, walking up to him and grabbing his arm.

He seemed startled that she’d identified him so quickly. “Katara, I—I went to your office, and you weren’t—you were gone,” he stammered. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“What’s wrong?” she asked, assuming that it must be some sort of disaster for him to rush down here without protection.

“Nothing,” he said hastily. “I just—needed to say something.”

“You shouldn’t have come here alone,” she replied.

“If it’s safe enough for you, it’s safe enough for me,” he said, and she gave a snort.

There was a distant rumble above them and she craned her neck back to survey the darkening clouds. “You picked a bad time to come.”

“It wasn’t like this when I left the palace,” he muttered. "It's a long walk." 

If that was a subtle complaint, Katara ignored it. She grabbed his arm. “You can come in, just be less— _Fire Lord_ -y.”

“I don’t know how to-,”

She cut him off by opening the door and pulling him inside. They hiked up two sets of stairs, through the storage room on the second story and then to the attic. Zuko had scoffed at the word when she used it, but it wasn’t some dark hovel that they had to crawl into, it was pretty much like a regular room, just with a lot of wood paneling and a high ceiling. And maybe impossibly small and not well-insulated but that was beside the point. 

“Stay here,” she ordered, as she opened the door and ushered him inside. “I’ll get some tea.”

“You don’t-,”

She clopped back down the creaky stairs to the shop—Makoto always had some spare tea pots brewing and was more than happy to offer her a cup, especially in exchange for her providing him with ice or cold tea, which had become all the rage lately.

When she slipped back into her room, Zuko had unclipped his cloak and was staring out the window. It was darker out now, only a little gray light cast across him. When he turned, pellets of rain began to beat against the glass. She looked up, hearing a rapid _tap-tap-tap_ on the roof, too, but it appeared to be holding thanks to Lee’s work.

“Nice window, isn’t it?” she asked, handing him a steaming cup.

He accepted it and looked back out at the street. “I suppose it provides a decent vantage point for spotting any hostiles.”

Katara resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “Quite dramatic, as usual, Mister Fire Lord.” 

Zuko raised a hand to placate her. “Sorry, it’s—it’s nice, really.”

She looked over her shoulder—her furniture was sparse to say the least, though she was working on it. There was a little bed, piled with furs, and a small table scattered with papers. She’d managed to find one chair but was on the hunt for another. There were maybe one too many spiders, but she was pretty sure they weren’t the poisonous kind. 

Thunder rumbled again outside, closer now, rain pounding harder against the roof.

“I read your proposal,” Zuko remarked. “On the hospital?”

“That’s what you wanted to talk about?” she asked, swiveling back to him, brow raised.

He blushed. “Uh, no, but I just thought of it—I was really impressed.”

She took a quick sip of her tea before she spoke. She’d worked many, many more hours on the report after Dai had pointed out where her numbers didn’t necessarily add up right—she figured he couldn’t somehow betray her with straight math, and he’d given her a few other bona fide proposals she could use for reference.

“It still needs some tweaking, but thanks,” she replied, then nudged him with her elbow. “So what did you really want to talk about?” 

He stared down at his cup, pale fingers wrapped tight around it. “Listen, Katara, about—all this, I don’t want to interfere with your choices. It’s your life, and I’m sorry if I-,” He cleared his throat. “If I’ve been weird about it.”

A heavy breath let her, enough to fog up the glass in front of her. “It was sudden.”

“That doesn’t matter. You don’t owe me an explanation.”

“But I want to,” she insisted. “I just—didn’t know how to say that I felt out of touch and weird and then once I was, you know, on your council, it-,” She stopped and her gaze dropped to her feet.

“What?” he said.

Katara shook her head. “Nothing, it’s stupid.”

She felt warm suddenly and turned from the window. She sat near the head of her bed, surrendering her tea to the small table she had piled with books.

Zuko was concerned and spoke after a few moments, turning to her, most of his face obscured.

“You know after my coronation even the advisors that I kept around had a lot to say about a sixteen year old Fire Lord.”

Katara raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t that treason?”

“Not if they don’t think I’m listening, I guess,” he replied.

She reached up and unfastened the part of her hair that was pulled back, letting it fall over her shoulders. She began trying to work out some of the knots with her fingers. “How did you know what I was upset about?”

He shrugged. “I’ve—heard some things too, from time to time. Still hear them about me,” he said. “I know you worry too much about everyone liking you.” 

“I’m not a coward,” she said, throwing a glare in his direction. “I didn’t—run off crying because of some petty gossip.”

“I know,” he said.

“It’s just-,” She made an exasperated sound. “I don’t know, I thought maybe I should be trying to build my own life instead of being a perpetual guest of the Fire Lord.”

Zuko hesitated, but then walked over and sat beside her. “I think you’re right,” he said. “Well, I mean you don’t have to live _here_ , but I get it.”

Katara playfully smacked his arm before propping up her feet and leaning against the headboard. “I like it here, thank you very much.” She pointed ahead of her to the window. “If you squint and turn your head sideways a bit, there’s almost an ocean view.”

Zuko made a doubtful sound and leaned back, also against the headboard, halfway at first.

“I don’t see it-,”

Katara shoved his knees with one hand. “Don’t get your shoes on my bed, you monster.”

His arms were crossed, but he managed to hook a toe on each foot into his shoes and tug them off, where they clunked on the floor beside them. “I thought you were past that mothering thing.”

Katara snorted and scooted over so they were shoulder to shoulder. “Says the guy who never let _anyone_ touch his stupid swords like some old woman with a porcelain tea set.”

“They were _antiques_ ,” he protested. “And Sokka was liable to cut a finger off.”

“You were just afraid he was going to steal one after he lost his space sword,” Katara replied. 

“That too.” 

She laughed, and he smiled back in return while shaking his head. He had finished off his tea and put it beside hers. He bit his lip but quickly released it.

“Katara, if—if they are saying truly awful things-,”

“No, Zuko, no way,” she said, waving her hand. “How do you think it will look if you come to my rescue like that?”

He rubbed his brow. “I know—I know. It just infuriates me, after all you do here.” His hand dropped and he looked over at her. “They’re just jealous and stupid and petty-,”

“And they’re wrong, right?” she asked. “You’re not just—letting me do all this stuff with your council because we’re friends?”

“Of course not.”

She rested her head back. “I know I asked you before, but—but you decided so quickly, and-,” 

“Because I already knew, Katara,” he said. “Regardless of our friendship or—whatever, you’re smart, compassionate, you’ve seen more of the world at nineteen then any of the others in that room. You work hard and you’re—quite stubborn, but still willing to learn.”

She would never know how a man so socially inept somehow always said what she wanted to hear. Maybe he knew her too well after all this time.

“Just had to slip _stubborn_ in there, didn’t you?” she grumbled. 

“Katara, you are without a doubt the most hard-headed person I have ever met.”

She huffed. “You’ve met Toph, she’s literally just one giant _rock_ -,”

“Alright, alright,” he said. “Ignore the _stubborn_ , then. You are doing a great job, and they’ll come around.”

Katara didn’t think they all would, some people just wanted to hate, but maybe after some persistence she would have less outright enemies. She sagged further against the headboard, listening to the rain. Zuko was warm beside her, especially his bare arms, which were squeezed in his lap because there really wasn’t all that much room for both of them.

He shifted after a few moments, and she thought he wanted more space, except only his arm moved, and it settled gingerly over her shoulders.

“You—seemed, um, cold,” he remarked.

She wasn’t. It was chilly, occasionally, in the Fire Nation, but never freezing, and quite temperate compared to the South Pole. Maybe her body felt cold compared to his literal furnace of an arm.

But she really liked it, so she lied. “I was,” she said. “Thanks.”

Katara scooted a little closer to him, curling her legs up and nestling her head in the crook of his neck.

He tightened his grip on her, maybe too hard, because he was nervous.

He cleared his throat. “Is this okay?” 

She lifted her head to look at him, those golden eyes. She wanted to kiss him. She wanted to wrap herself all the way around his stupidly warm body and never let go. Not just because he was handsome, but because it was so easy to be held by him, to be understood.

Katara wondered what he wanted. They weren’t children anymore. Maybe years ago she’d thought about lying under the stars with him at night on Ember Island, or secretly holding his hand, or seeking his embrace when the others were asleep, when nothing else mattered except defeating Ozai, and his future didn’t seem so set in stone. That was ancient history. There was Aang now, the Fire Nation, the Southern Water Tribe, all to think of, and if Zuko didn’t want it, if he needed someone like _Mai_ and to be a good Fire Lord—what was the point of anything in this tiny room?

It would be better to be honest with him, but somehow at this moment she couldn’t bear to hear what she feared was the truth.

She smiled at him.

“It’s perfect.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter gave me an idea for a whole different story so I guess I'll be in zutara hell for a while ;) 
> 
> Thanks as always to everyone for their lovely comments, I am so appreciative of them, and they truly help me when I'm losing motivation to write!


	17. Chapter 17

Zuko was late to their council meeting one afternoon, which almost never happened. They all waited for him, quiet, and the silence stretched long enough that eventually some of the council members started looking at _her_ , as if Katara somehow had any idea of Zuko’s whereabouts.

She was about to snidely point out that she had absolutely _zero_ idea where their Fire Lord was when the door swung open. Zuko walked through and spoke immediately with his eyes on some papers in his hands. She was unsettled by his grim expression.

“We will need to table all business for the next few days,” he said. “I’ve been informed that a bad storm is coming to the capital.”

Katara suppressed a shudder as she recalled her last storm, traveling with Aang, the powerful wind, the lightning, Sokka being whisked from danger only for them to be submerged again in the water. She remembered feeling frustrated that the element she was supposed to master was threatening to cause such harm.

By far the oldest council member, Arata, snorted. “Informed by those men at the university?” he began. “Their science is haphazard at best. The Fire Sages have made no such prediction.”

“I was in the harbor this morning,” Katara said. “The water was choppy. Seemed higher.”

Arata waved his hand dismissively. “Unusual tides, nothing more.”

Zuko sat down, frowning. “I’ve reviewed the figures myself, and we will be preparing for a direct hit.”

“Even powerful typhoons hardly pose a threat here in the caldera,” Zhen remarked, and Katara’s fist tightened in her lap. She wanted to point out that there were people _outside_ of the caldera who could be in danger, not that Zhen would care about that. 

Dai, who had the seat beside Zuko, crossed his arms. “If these predictions are correct, we have to consider the economic damage—to the ships, the storehouses.”

Again, Katara could not fathom why the _actual humans_ in the harbor were not a concern, but at least Dai was taking the information seriously. That had to be some kind of win.

“How common are these storms?” she asked.

“There have been three or four in all my years here,” Arata replied immediately.

“Which we all know is _a lot_ of years,” Ming remarked with a snort.

Arata threw a glare in her direction—as a rotten old man he had very particular feelings about _women_ on the Fire Nation council, which Ming rightfully took issue with.

“But it _has_ happened, caused damage before,” Katara said.

Zuko nodded. “That’s right.”

“Is flooding a risk?” she began. “Water from the harbor rising past the Royal Plaza?”

“It’s possible,” Zuko admitted. “Though it hasn’t happened in forty years. If enough rain falls that will only exacerbate the problem.”

“It’s a full moon tonight, the tides will be higher too,” Katara said.

Arata rubbed the bridge of his nose. “We can handle some _tides_ -,”

Katara interrupted him because she decided she was tired of listening to stupid ideas. “We should evacuate the nearest parts of the harbor,” she declared. “People and-,” She gestured to Dai. “Commodities, included, if we must.”

“Evacuate to where?” Zhen asked incredulously.

Katara knew what she wanted to say right away, but pretended to ruminate on it.

“The palace is large enough.”

Zhen scoffed, indignant, as she expected. “Don’t be absurd.”

“It’s only as a precautionary measure,” Katara insisted. “We can use the Agni Kai chamber or the Coronation Plaza.”

Zhen scowled. “We don’t even know if there will _be_ flooding, and you suggest we—we allow these _people_ into the caldera?”

“If there is, they will panic and come here anyway,” Katara protested. 

“That’s illegal-,”

“They’re not just going to politely _drown_ in their homes because it’s against the rules to flee,” she snapped, and then sat back. 

Ming was frowning like the rest of them, but exhaled a heavy breath. “She’s right, you know. I don’t want to risk them running amuck in our streets.”

“We don’t even know if this will be a bad storm,” Arata interjected.

Dai gestured to the papers beside Zuko. “It’s time for you to join us in the present day, Arata. We have ways to predict these types of things.”

“And even if the consequences _aren’t_ as dire as predicted, it’s still not worth the risk,” Katara added.

Zuko spoke with practiced finality, though he looked more irritated than usual. “I agree,” he said. “We will plan to evacuate the harbor, including any cargo on any of the ships currently docked.”

“Of course, My Lord,” Arata replied, disdain only thinly veiled.

Katara couldn’t find the energy to be smug, so she just scrawled out detailed notes as they continued to discuss. Still, there was something warm and comforting and familiar about Zuko and her working together, agreeing with one another, maybe especially in a situation where the odds seemed stacked against them.

Though the odds seemed _really_ stacked against them in this case.

====

Following their meeting, Katara immediately set to work in her office. Zuko had asked her to write to both Kuei and Arnook about the storm and for assistance—earthbenders and waterbenders would certainly be useful if there was widespread structural damage from flooding, though they were hoping that wouldn’t be the case. Either way it was better to have them en route rather than belatedly request aid when it was too late. 

Katara was thankful Zuko had at least begun to undo some his predecessor’s work making the caldera such an inaccessible place. During his reign, Sozin had demolished the previous path from the Royal Plaza in favor of a punishing switchback that made it difficult to transport larger groups or goods. It certainly was not a peacetime design, and Zuko had arranged for the path to be significantly widened following his coronation, which helped the evacuation, for those who chose to listen.

She and Zuko were not working side by side in the ensuing hours considering the amount of preparation to be done. It was chaotic down in the harbor, though not overwhelming, since if there was anything the Fire Nation was good at, it was imposing order. Arata’s continued insistence that these were merely unusual tides evaporated as the afternoon slipped to evening—the water was choppier than ever, wind picking up and dark clouds forming on the horizon.

The sun was setting when she returned to the palace, which made her stomach lurch. Somehow knowing a storm was advancing in the darkness was worse than being able to watch it with bated breath.

Zuko was in his office with piles of correspondence and a flurry of activity around him. Katara updated him on her work, and he dispatched many of the people rushing around, and soon when Katara looked up from what she was doing, they were alone. She considered grabbing him to offer comfort because she knew he was spiraling, maybe she was too, but as expected before she even had a few seconds to contemplate, the doors to his chambers burst open again.

To her surprise, Mai appeared, chest heaving like she’d been running. For possibly the first time ever, she had a look of concern on her face.

“Is it true?” she demanded, as she walked over to them.

Zuko’s brow furrowed in alarm upon seeing her. “Mai-,”

She reached him and stopped, grabbing the robes at his chest. “The storm, Zuko—they say it will be bad.”

“If we’re hit directly, yes,” he replied. “But you don’t have to worry, we are preparing-,”

Mai made an exasperated sound and dropped her hands, turning back to his desk. Her lips were pressed together, jaw clenched, trying hard to contain any emotion. Katara stepped closer as she spoke again.

“My mother and Tom-Tom were in the Earth Kingdom. For some _stupid_ reason my mother still—likes to visit Omashu. Their ship was supposed to arrive back tomorrow morning.”

Zuko said nothing at first, eyes searching, calculating, before he looked down and spoke in a defeated voice. “If the winds were good they may arrive before the storm.”

“But if they _don’t_ , their—their ship might capsize and they’ll drown,” Mai said, voice wavering. “It’s a huge ship, Zuko, there are more colonists and-,”

“I understand,” Zuko insisted. “Mai, please, I’m so sorry, if there’s anything I could do-,”

Mai rubbed her brow. “Isn’t there another boat we could send or—or an airship?”

“I’ve sent word to Aang, but I doubt he will arrive in time,” he said. “Without his bending, our airships have little chance of making it out of the storm.”

“I can take a boat out,” Katara remarked from the other end of the table. “I’m a waterbender, I can guide them into the harbor.”

“A waterbender, not a _storm_ bender,” Zuko replied immediately, frowning.

“I can handle the waves-,”

“And the wind?” he said tersely. “The lightning?”

She matched his frown. “Those people need help, if I don’t go-,”

“If you do go, you will die,” he said. “People will need help here.” 

“ _You_ will be here, and I’m the only one who can do anything out there,” she insisted, flinging one hand in the direction of the window. 

He turned to his desk, where they’d unfurled a map. “There are _many_ ships, Katara,” he said. “It’s a massive storm and there—there will be casualties, you can’t save everyone.”

“So we don’t even try?”

“Of course not,” he said. “But we shouldn’t be _stupid_.”

Katara crossed her arms. “I have been in a storm, I know what to-,”

“You were with _Aang_ ,” he protested. “On a sky bison—you just flew away!”

“What if it was Iroh on that boat?” she demanded. “What would you want me to do then?”

“Don’t—twist this around,” he said sharply. “I wouldn’t send you out for _both_ of you to drown!”

She gave an angry huff. “I am strong enough-,”

“It is _out_ of the _question_ , Katara!”

He had practically shouted at her, slamming his palm against the table and clattering the ink wells around the map. He scowled at her for a second—she wanted to, but she did not shout back at him, just raised both eyebrows, lips pressed thin.

Zuko blinked, then straightened, guilt flashing across his face before he turned away. “I’m sorry. To you both,” he said with a sigh. “I should go.”

There was no use arguing further—Katara was going to do what she wanted and he wasn’t going to approve, so she dropped her arms in defeat.

Before she could speak, he twisted on his heel and hurried out of the room, door clicking shut behind him. Mai spoke as soon as he was gone. 

“He’s right,” she said, expression crumpled. “It’s too dangerous. I can’t ask you to risk-,”

“I don’t answer to Zuko,” Katara replied evenly.

Mai shook her head. “I know you’re a powerful bender,” she said. “But—but I really don’t know if you can strong arm your way through a massive storm like this.” 

_Watch me_ , she thought, which was brash, and ridiculous, but she wasn’t going to sit on the shore and let those people drown when she could do something about it. Or at least try.

“Let’s go,” Katara said and did not wait for Mai to follow her as she marched out the door.

It was starting to rain outside, and though it was silly, Katara bent a little umbrella over herself. She heard a few gentle splashes and then Mai was beside her, bangs slightly disheveled.

“This is insane, you know,” she said. “You’re insane.”

“I can handle it, trust me.”

Mai’s eyes were glassy, but Katara only caught a glimpse before she jerked her face away. Katara felt bad for her. There was nothing she hated more in the world than feeling powerless to help the people she cared about, and Mai no doubt felt that intensely now. 

“And what if you can’t handle it?” Mai asked. “What if you die out there and my family-,”

Katara grabbed Mai’s forearm—she could feel her pulse thrumming under pale skin. “I’m going to bring them back, and you’re going to get many more years putting up with an annoying brother, just like I have to put up with Sokka.”

Mai did not look all that comforted. “You have no idea how badly I want you to be right.”

“Well I am,” she said, with a small smile. “Pretty much all the time.”

She scoffed at that in reply and together they hurried under her self-made umbrella out of the caldera. Rain continued to fall steadily around them, dark clouds creeping closer in the fading light. The harbor was crowded, busy, people darting to and fro onto ships bobbing under heavy waves.

Katara weaved her way through with Mai, scurrying up gangplanks to ask who might sail out, only to be met with incredulous looks or even harsh laughs. They had almost exhausted all their options, and Katara was considering absconding with a boat under the authority of the Fire Lord, when they came across a man near what could only be described as a medium sized ship—not _quite_ what Katara preferred to set out with, but they didn’t have many options. His brother was a passenger like Mai’s mother and Tom-Tom, and he was willing to accompany her if it increased his family’s chances of surviving.

“I should come too,” Mai volunteered, once their plan was settled, voice higher as she tried to speak over the rain now falling heavy around them, but Katara shook her head.

“It’s not safe-,”

Mai quirked an eyebrow. “So _you’re_ going?”

“I can bend the waves, and if I’m not in the palace, you can be,” Katara said.

Mai exhaled a breath through her nose—the rain had slicked her hair across her forehead and her bangs brushed her dark lashes.

“Zuko will never forgive me if anything happens to you.”

“It wouldn’t be your fault.”

“Well he’s not ever going to get mad at _you_ for anything.”

A clap of thunder rattled the wood planks under their feet, saving Katara from any half-hearted denial.

“I should go,” she said instead.

Mai was clearly still uncertain, guilty, but relented. “Good luck. Really. And thank you.”

Perhaps a younger version of herself would have boisterously declared she did not need luck, but as more thunder rumbled and lightning flashed across the sky, she decided she might need a little.

====

It wasn’t until Katara was directly under the mast of a ship in the middle of a strong storm that she realized she may have bitten off more than she could chew, which was arguably the _worst_ time to have such a realization.

The whole thing was Aang’s fault, really—the entire gang, who all had done such truly _incredible_ things in the course of the war that it made anything seem possible.

The problem wasn’t the waterbending—maybe it was _a little_ because the massive swells were not exactly easy to wrangle. The wind was a bigger problem, howling all around her, the tendrils of lightning across the sky, which even years later made her shudder and think of Azula.

It had been manageable at first, as they sailed out quickly, thanks to her, but it seemed hopeless to try to find the ship, even being somewhat familiar with its route, especially once they were met with the vastness of the ocean past the Gates of Azulon.

They got lucky that it was a ship of fire benders. As Katara was searching the waters, rain lashing her, she spotted a flash of orange on the darkening horizon, a powerful flame, meant to be a signal.

When they finally reached the ship and hopped on board, the storm was at its peak. A part of the mast splintered off and struck her while she was on the deck, throwing off her balance as she tried to guide them back to shore. The pain was blinding, when she was already disoriented, and she skidded across the floor before slamming into something hard, soaking wet to her core, suddenly nauseous from the violent thrashing of the ship.

The darkness was terrifying as she laid crumpled in a ball—the inky blackness all around her that she could hardly see through, except when lightning lit up the sky, or the sailors who could firebend would re-stoke the lanterns.

She thought of Pakku, weirdly enough, as she considered that they were moments away from sinking to the bottom of the ocean. In her addled brain she heard his voice, what he would say when he discovered she was swallowed by a storm. _I guess she wasn’t strong enough._

Other than the utter embarrassment of the last waterbender of the Southern Water Tribe _dying_ in the _ocean_ , she couldn’t let these people die either.

Katara pushed herself to her knees—rain was beading down her face and she wiped it from her eyes, though everything still felt blurry. She heard the groan of the ship under her, the thundering crash of waves followed by whimpers, shrieks.

The wind was buffeting against her, violently, but still she rose further to her feet. She lifted her hands, trying to feel the waves under her again, push them away, keep her stance strong even as her balance shifted precariously.

When the wind picked up more, she iced herself to the deck. Though the heavy storm clouds covered the full moon, Katara could still feel it, draw power from it, and pray to Yue for a personal favor involving her _not_ dying on this ship.

Later, she weakened, she had to. She wasn’t an unlimited fount of power, like Aang—she was Katara and though this took work and maybe wasn’t even possible she’d be damned not to _try_. As she felt her knees wobbling, like she may collapse, she spotted something in a flash of lightning. Something solid and gray and tall—a statute. She never thought she’d be so happy to see _Azulon_ , but that meant land was nearby. Or at least she hoped the whole island hadn’t just sunk at this point.

Finding a place for the ship was going to be another problem. Even if the docks weren’t submerged, she didn’t know if she could see them, could steady the ship enough to get everyone off. If she wasn’t careful she may crash it straight up the Royal Plaza which her fellow council members may not appreciate.

She began losing her grip—she was cold, _freezing_ , and her feeble attempts to drag the ship through the waves reminded her of when she had first been trying to bend and could not get the water to move, push and pull, with much force. They passed the lighthouses, perched at the edges of the harbor, flickering yellow lights at the top blurring as she became even dizzier. 

The ship scraped against something, causing her to stagger, and she hardly had the strength to catch herself this time. Water continued to run down her face, clothes heavy and saturated. Spirits, she hoped they were close to something, had hit _land_ and not some other ship or busted a hole in the hull.

She stumbled again, when the ship wasn’t even thrashing more than usual. _Focus_ , she thought, but she could hardly hold tight to that thought. She wanted to make it, she so _badly_ wanted to make it and see Zuko—

She froze all the water around the ship down to the ground and collapsed. 

====

Katara was right, which normally Zuko would be proud of, but in this case it meant the storm was bad enough to warrant the preemptive evacuation of the harbor. A surge right up the Royal Plaza, accompanied by howling wind and a torrential downpour.

It was the last fucking thing he needed, when his grip on things in the Fire Nation seemed tenuous at best. If this wasn’t handled well—frankly, even if it _were_ —he’d have plenty of detractors, not to mention the economic and human toll of a disaster like this.

The Fire Nation was prepared for bad storms— _designed_ for it, even, given how far the palace was set back on the island, but the harbor _already_ needed rebuilding and who knows how many commercial vessels they would lose.

Most of his council members were intensely concerned with maintaining order with so many _commoners_ around, but the palace was so replete with soldiers that Zuko highly doubted it would be an issue. And frankly his concern about dissenters to his reign was far more focused on the nobility who _already_ had more access to the palace, than the poor outside the caldera who probably only viewed him as somewhat less of a despot than his father and would just prefer to not get trapped in a storm.

There was far too much to manage at the palace that he had no spare moments to think of Katara, which he hated given their argument that he’d unnecessarily escalated. He truly did not doubt her abilities, what she could do with water or waves, but a storm was more than that. One strike of lightning and—and she’d be _gone_. He had refused to let that happen once before, and now she was out of his reach. 

She went, of course, despite the risk, never one to turn her back on people when there was a chance she could help. If he didn’t love her so much it might be a little infuriating that she could be so stupid and heroic and reckless.

He decided to keep his focus on what he could control. Katara’s friend from the hospital—who introduced herself _very_ brusquely as Kaida—was helping them funnel people into the palace and take care of anyone who was hurt. He told himself that Katara was probably with her, healing people, but—she wasn’t. 

Zuko was not cognizant of how much time had passed, since he could not just gaze outside wishing the water and wind to recede and ignoring the panic that shot through him every time he saw a flash of lightning. It started raining far before the storm hit in full force, so dark and heavy that he could hardly see out any window he passed.

The eye of the storm—of which Iroh had used years ago to save them out at sea—never passed over the capital. Zuko knew they were lucky, then, that maybe this storm would not bring so much devastation that the country was brought to its knees. 

He returned to his quarters at one point, when there was a break in the flurry of issues that required his attention, shoulders slumping, wanting to crumple completely because he was tired of walking around stiff and stoic like he wasn’t panicking. He was so tired that he was a few steps into the room before he noticed a woman in a blue dress sprawled across his bed.

“Katara!”

She was asleep or unconscious and did not stir even as he hurried over to her. Her clothes were dry, but her dark hair looked tangled and sticky from salt water. When he carefully turned her onto her back, he noticed her tanned skin was pinkish and irritated on one side of her face, across her neck and presumably under her dress on her shoulder. It gutted him, but she was here, at least, chest rising slowly.

He felt guilty not knowing she’d returned, not to mention that he had no idea what she managed to accomplish in her probably reckless quest to save people. He was not desperate enough to shake her awake, but still gently touched her shoulder, then brushed his knuckle across her cheek, which he knew was wrong, and pathetic, to seek physical interaction when she was asleep because he was too afraid to do it when those perfect blue eyes were open and fixed on him—

His door opened again, and he started, snatching his hand back as he spun to face the threshold. A surprisingly shrill yelp followed, and a young girl whose hands were full of bandages collapsed on her knees.

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! My Lord, please-,”

“Are you here for Katara?” he asked.

The girl just nodded, hair falling over her shoulders as she looked down.

“Please don’t worry about me,” he said. “Help her.”

He realized belatedly that sounded too much like a direct order because she scrambled to pick up her things and rush to the bed on the other side of him.

“Is Katara alright?” Zuko asked.

“She’ll have some cuts and bruising, but she’s just exhausted,” the girl replied, then her eyes widened. “Kaida said I could bring her here, she doesn’t have a room anymore and your guards recognized her and they-,”

“It’s fine,” Zuko said. “What’s your name?”

She flushed bright red. “H-Hana.” 

“Well, thank you, Hana,” he said. “Can I help you with anything?”

She hesitated. “I don’t have much to do. There’s just a wound on her shoulder, but I need to—um, undo her dress a little?”

He instinctively stepped back. “Oh, well, I-,” He cleared his throat. “I’ll leave you to that.”

It was ridiculous in a situation like this he was still fumbling at the prospect of seeing her _clavicle_ , but Hana seemed capable enough so he pretended to gather up some papers at his desk.

He walked back over to her after a few moments, at a distance where he could not be accused of leering.

“Did she—bring back all the others? From the ship?”

Hana looked up. “She collapsed before getting to the palace, so we don’t have many details, but yes, the ship made it in and they got off somehow.”

He was surprised how much relief he felt after hearing that—he had forcibly tamped down any emotions associated with the ship capsizing out of necessity because crumbling under the utter hopelessness of it would not help anyone, but for Katara to have plucked them from a stormy maw that otherwise certainly spelled their doom—well, it was incredible. Perhaps he shouldn’t have been worried at all. 

“That’s good news,” he said. “Could you please find me as soon as Katara wakes up?”

“Yes, of course,” she said with another earnest nod. 

His eyes lingered too much on Katara afterwards, and he forced himself to look down at his hands. He wanted to lay down and curl up beside her, to be there when she woke up, but he knew that wasn’t an option so with a heavy sigh he trailed out the door and shut it behind him.

====

Katara woke up with quite a paradox—in a very comfortable bed (really _ridiculously_ comfortable) but also exhausted to the bone and with a dull pain radiating from her shoulder. She was dry, which was quite a change from the last few hours, and laying down. She cracked one eye open, the only one not pressed against the soft surface under her, and she heard a gasp as soon as she shifted.

Hana popped into her view, helping her gingerly roll onto her back, which elicited a small groan from her.

“Are you alright?” Hana asked earnestly.

She wasn’t, not really, but tried to push herself up with the palms of her hands. The excess comfort of the bed made sense to her when she looked around because she was in Zuko’s room. She wondered if he’d seen her, or brought her here, though it was probably Kaida just trying to get her out of the way.

“I’m fine,” Katara said. “How did I get here?”

“They carried you,” Hana replied. “Said you made it to the harbor and collapsed.”

She rubbed her temple, which was still pulsing under her fingers. “The others—did they-,”

“Everyone’s okay, I think,” Hana said. “Had a better chance of surviving than being in the middle of an ocean anyway.”

Katara shifted, and a pain shot up her shoulder—she trapped a wince in her throat.

“Tell me how it’s going here.”

Hana handed her some water, which she gladly accepted. “Less injuries than we expected because of the evacuation, but some people refused to leave and fled late. It’s still raining a lot, but the wind has died down.”

Katara twisted so her feet could touch the floor, but she stopped short of standing. “Take me to where I can start healing.”

“Are you sure-,”

“I’m sure.”

Hana brought her shoes over to her, but Katara waved her away and leaned over to pull them on herself, though it made her stomach lurch.

“I met the Fire Lord,” Hana remarked, clearly trying to contain her excitement. “He came to his room when you were asleep. He told me to find him as soon as you-,”

Katara straightened. “He has enough to deal with, he doesn’t need to worry about me.”

Hana was clearly disquieted by the notion of _not_ doing what Zuko asked, but there were far more important things to worry about, and he didn’t need to drop everything, especially since he already knew she was at least alive after her mildly daring rescue attempt in the harbor.

Hana led her from Zuko’s quarters to the more chaotic rooms in the palace where a decent number of people were languishing or huddled up with their meager belongings. It reminded her of the sea of refugees they’d encountered in the Earth Kingdom, too many rushed and worried faces, though in the elegant setting of the palace it was quite the contrast.

She knew this was radical, she did. Regular people weren’t usually allowed in the caldera, much less the palace. But boldness was needed, could be justified in a situation like this, where the alternative was destruction and death, and it was one of many steps needed to break down this suffocating hierarchy Zuko’s predecessors had imposed during their rule. 

Kaida had clearly taken charge of the situation and was ordering around physicians from the hospital in the caldera—the men didn’t like taking orders, but Kaida was nothing if not persistent. And terrifying. Hana led her over to the woman, who spotted her and immediately grabbed her arms—Katara was stunned, expecting a hug or some sort of expression of friendly concern, but Kaida merely forced her into the nearest chair.

“Have you had anything to drink?” she asked. 

Katara craned her neck to try and look around, but Kaida kept hold on her. “A little-,”

“To eat?”

“Well, no-,”

Kaida reached beside them and shoved a bowl of rice into her lap. “No healing until this is empty.”

“I don’t need-,”

The old woman was gone, ignoring her, and Katara made an annoyed sound before shoving rice in her mouth. Quite obnoxiously she did feel better after she finished.

Her bending was still weak, to her chagrin. Calling water, sensing injuries—that was all so simple when she was rested, but even after half an hour here, she was sweating, tremors in her fingers, wincing from exertion each time she knelt down. The full moon had energized her, but she felt that infusion waning, sapping her of any additional advantage as the sun would soon break through the storm clouds.

There was no one _else_ to help, though, so Katara persisted, staggering into nearby chairs when the world titled sideways and she needed to rest.

Kaida plied her with more food and water after a few hours, which did not help her feeble energy levels as much as before. Still, when she spotted a young boy cradling a bloodied arm, she shuffled over to him and knelt down.

“I’m Katara,” she said. “Can I help you with your arm?”

The boy’s gaze snapped up, on her blue dress and then her face, eyes wide. She held out a hand to him.

“I can heal you,” she said.

He instinctively brought his arm tighter to his chest before reconsidering and shakily offering it to her. She carefully unraveled the bandages and coaxed some water from her waterskin when she heard a commotion behind her.

She was grabbed by her shoulder and wrenched back, met with angry eyes as she looked up at a red faced man.

“What are you doing with my son?” he demanded.

Katara immediately stepped back, blue glow in her hands fading. “He’s hurt.”

“Well we didn’t ask for your help,” he spat.

“I can heal him-,”

He threw his hand violently out. “Take your savage bending and leave us!”

Katara’s anger spiked, despite her exhaustion, and she clenched her fists. Before she could snap back at the man, she stopped, eyes narrowed. Her thoughts were a messy jumble— _pathetic, idiotic, ignorant man_ , she wanted to scream, but she didn’t.

“Suit yourself,” she said through gritted teeth, and then spun on her heel and marched over to the next bedroll, where Kaida was already kneeling.

Katara lowered onto one knee, blood pounding in her ears, and because she was already running far too high on adrenaline, tears welled up in her eyes. A calloused hand wrapped around her forearm, squeezing briefly.

“Just focus on the next one,” Kaida said gruffly.

A thought sickened her that the next one would act that way. And the next one. She chased those thoughts away because Kaida would chide her otherwise.

“Thanks,” she murmured back.

She inhaled a calming breath before collapsing on her other knee. She’d learned years ago, no matter where she went, that some people were awful, or scared, or ignorant, but it didn’t hurt any less. Didn’t make her any less angry, though she knew railing against that man or screaming about his stupidity would do nothing, just intensify his irrational feelings. She _was_ welcome here, by plenty of people, who appreciated her and her bending, and she wasn’t going to be scared off by those who chose not to understand.

Instead she took Kaida’s surprisingly sage advice and just focused on the next person who needed her.

====

It was the middle of the morning, though he was hardly keeping track, when Zuko returned to his room again. He’d been awake since they first received news of the storm, so he was exhausted, bleary-eyed, probably quite irritable. Things were marginally under control at least. The bulk of the storm had passed, only occasional bands of rain pelting the palace, and many of the people living in the harbor had returned to their homes to survey the damage.

The length of the Royal Plaza curtailed most of the flooding, though there were still some badly damaged buildings that had retained water or would need repair—he was glad he had requested help, as waterbenders and earthbenders would make quick work of repairs. It was hard to know the extent of the damage, or worse the casualties, but no particularly alarming emergencies had arisen overnight.

Katara was not in his room when he arrived, though he hadn’t expected her to be. Hana had not told him that she’d woken up, which he suspected was Katara’s doing because she wouldn’t want him to be distracted. He’d look like a lunatic trying to find her now, and in any event he was too tired to consider even the walk down his hallway. He had finished tearing off his formal robes when the door opened. His shoulders tensed, assuming the worst, another emergency, but when he turned he saw a blue dress again. 

Katara, upright and smiling weakly and _not dead_ , and he immediately rushed over to her, wrapping her into a hug. She sagged against him, clearly exhausted. Her hair was still tangled and she smelled like sweat and the sharp medicinal salve his physicians put on wounds. He had never been happier to hold her.

Her hands bunched in his tunic, but then tightened.

“Zuko—ow, careful-,”

He jerked back, realizing he’d forgotten about her injuries and was squeezing too hard. “Shit, I’m sorry-,”

“It’s okay-,”

“You didn’t heal your shoulder?” he asked.

Katara shook her head. “It’s hardly life-threatening, and there’s only so much healing I can do.” She furrowed her brow. “How did you know it was my shoulder?”

“Your helper—Hana explained,” he said. He was still holding her by the waist and gave a gentle squeeze. “She also told me about the ship. What you did.”

Katara did not look as smug as he would have guessed and bit her lip. “I couldn’t just let them sink out there.” 

“Is Mai’s family alright?” he asked.

She nodded. “I think everyone made it off,” she said. “The ship is wrecked though.”

“How did you manage to get out there?”

“I found another man whose brother was a passenger, too. He let us take his boat out to them. They lit a flare and he knew the route so we managed to find it,” she said. “That boat is also a little—at the bottom of the ocean and I _may_ have promised I’d buy him a new one.”

He raised an eyebrow. “A new _ship_?”

“Don’t make it sound so expensive,” Katara replied flippantly, hugging him again with her cheek pressed to his chest. It embarrassed him that he wanted to say he’d buy her anything she wanted. 

“You must be exhausted,” he replied instead, when she leaned back. 

She cupped one side of his face. “You don’t look so energetic either.”

Her fingers trailed a few inches down before her arm fell to her side, which was good because he was flushed red across his cheeks in the silence.

“Did you—want to stay here?” he asked. 

“If you don’t mind,” she said. “I may have to swim to the tea shop anyway, and I’d rather rest here so I can get right back to it. I just need one or two hours. Kaida very bodily ejected me from the room when I looked ready to faint. ”

“You’re—I mean, take as long as you’d like,” he said, stammering, as usual.

She walked over to his bed and flung her arms out before collapsing perpendicular on top of it with her legs hanging off the side. “My ulterior motive may be that your bed is obscenely comfortable.”

“Perks of being Fire Lord, I guess,” he said with a shrug.

She hummed happily and clenched her fists into the covers, drawing her arms in so she could wrap herself in them. 

“I snore,” she remarked, though her voice was muffled by the sheets now tangled around her.

“I remember.”

Katara playfully glared at him, and he walked over beside her. “This isn’t how to sleep in a bed, by the way.”

He grabbed her calves and dragged her sideways so she’d be laying properly, though that further destroyed the neatly tucked sheets. She gave a little shriek that devolved into a laugh.

“Sorry,” she said, after another giggle escaped. “I think I might be delirious from the fatigue.”

“Go to sleep then,” he said, lip curled up slightly. 

Katara did not protest, but her brow puckered and she looked up at him. “Will anyone come in here?”

“Not without knocking,” he replied. “But I can sleep on the floor if I decide to—you know, rest or something.”

“That’s not fair,” she protested. 

Zuko reached up and rubbed his neck. “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

“It’s not that,” she said with a sigh. “People just talk, and I—I don’t know.”

He was disappointed at her hesitance, but had no right to be. Angry, too, that Katara had to endure the doubt and overbearing curiosity that came with being associated with him.

“I need to work anyway,” he replied hastily.

Katara squirmed, another annoyed breath leaving her. “No, Zuko, just-,” She stopped and shook her head. “Spirits, I don’t know, they already gossip now, so maybe it doesn’t make a difference.”

“Does it matter to you what they say?” he asked. 

Her eyes flicked back over to him, and he considered stepping away because he was weak with that gaze trained on him. She was laying in his _bed_ for fuck’s sake, he was too tired to not say anything stupid.

“I think they’d find something to complain about even if we never spoke again,” she said. 

“I’m still sorry,” he said. “You don’t deserve it.”

Her expression was inscrutable, but she gestured next to her. “Come on. You need rest. Though I can’t offer you any covers I’m afraid.”

He did as she asked and hesitantly settled next to her. The bed was unnecessarily large, so he wasn’t so close that it would feel intimate, tempting. He turned on his side, facing her, his folded arm propped under his head.

She wiggled in the cocoon she’d wrapped herself in so she could do the same, except she laid on her stomach a little more with her hand between them. The side of her face was still red, starting to bruise.

“I’m sorry for the way I acted,” he said.

Katara curled her legs up, ankles crossed—he noticed she did that a lot—and shook her head against the pillow. “I know this was stressful, Zuko.”

“I was really scared for you.” 

She shifted and then gave a heavy sigh. “Me too, honestly,” she admitted. “I think I can be a little brash when I feel like I need to prove myself.”

“I support you, you know that,” he said. “But it was a little insane.”

“I did it, at least. I saved all those people.”

“I know,” he replied. “You’re amazing.”

She grinned. “You didn’t know that already?”

He returned her smile and reached out to put his hand over hers as it rested between them. Maybe that was too much, laying with her and initiating that contact, but he was so impossibly tired, his eyelids drooping like hers, perhaps he was bolder. Or foolish. 

Katara did not recoil from his touch and ran her thumb over his palm. “Your hand is warm,” she whispered. 

“All of me is warm.”

“Don’t tempt me,” she murmured. She pulled their hands close to her, nestling them under her cheek to use as a pillow with the back of his palm pressed against her cool skin. Her eyelids fluttered shut and she gave a content sigh. 

_He_ was tempted, if anything. Wanted desperately to gather her up in his arms and smell the salt in her hair, wake up with her cold, slender hands on his face. He hated that it wasn’t easier, that these thoughts consumed him so entirely, so at odds with how he tried to see himself. The _Fire Lord_ , a blubbering, idiotic mess of a man pining uselessly over his own council member.

He would ruin it, he knew. Even if it didn’t matter where they were from, or that she’d dated his best friend, or that he was Fire Lord, he’d say the wrong thing. Like _I think I love you_ which is probably the last thing she wanted to hear, no matter how badly he wanted to say it.

And he _really_ badly wanted to say it.

“Katara…”

He looked up, but her eyes were still closed, his hand wedged under her cheek. In his silence, his _fretting_ silence, she’d fallen asleep, lips parting slightly which probably meant snorting was imminent.

A slow breath left him, quiet, so he didn’t disturb her.

“Goodnight, Katara,” he finally said, hardly a whisper, instead of what he really wanted to. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woof, what a week. I thought writing would be a great distraction, but turns out not, so thank y'all for your kind words as always because they really kept me motivated with this chapter! 
> 
> Also sheesh 80,000 words and no kissing talk about a slow burn with two idiots.


	18. Chapter 18

Katara could not remember the last time she had used her bending so much—she still trained diligently, but not since the war had she been constantly calling to it, day and night, until she felt like she couldn’t anymore. The irony was still not lost on her that waterbending was so astronomically valuable in the Fire Nation following the storm — she was the only one among them who could heal or pull moisture from waterlogged buildings. The sea levels otherwise receded from the harbor on their own, but the relief effort took up more of her time than ever and was frankly exhausting.

She was saved in part by the arrival of a group of waterbenders and healers from the Northern Water Tribe, including some of the students she had personally trained from her trip there a few months ago. Zuko heaped praise on her in front of his council for that effort, saying the inroads she made at the tribe would save them plenty of coin as they began reconstruction since Arnook was generous in his dispatch of aid, which was no doubt meant to make her look good in front of Dai. The Earth Kingdom, too, sent provisions and some envoys, which were obviously crucial but just another thing that Kuei would expect a favor in return for.

They were lucky that the damage was not as widespread and serious as they initially thought, nor were the injuries or the fatalities. Evidence that Zuko was a good leader, to all his people, and then a little voice that she silenced said that _she_ was a good leader, too. She was told that word had spread about her harrowing trip during the storm—the stories were exaggerated, if she had to guess, but some other members of the nobility had been among the ship’s passengers such that her reputation improved perhaps by a sliver. 

Mai came to meet her at the palace a few days after the storm—they had not seen one another since Katara set off in the harbor through the choppy waves, which she assumed was because Mai was no doubt shaken by the whole ordeal.

The Fire Nation noble looked as beautiful and collected as ever, in her elegant robes, which made Katara slightly self-conscious given she appeared a bit haggard after clearing debris in the harbor all morning.

Still, Katara gave a friendly smile upon spotting her and pulled her into a hug. To her surprise, Mai reciprocated, though far more primly.

“How’s Tom-Tom?” she asked when they separated.

“Scared of boats,” Mai replied with a droll look, and Katara muffled a laugh, though she probably would not have minded. 

“I get that,” Katara replied. “It was a close one.”

“Too close, it sounds like,” she said. “Which is why I owe you a thank you. Though just _saying_ that feels pretty paltry.”

“No, Mai, I appreciate the sentiment-,”

She gave a snort. “My mother wanted to pay you.”

The solution to all noble problems, apparently, though Katara didn’t say that and just shook her head. “Payment is absolutely _not_ necessary.”

Mai’s eyes narrowed slightly, not in anger, Katara hoped, perhaps just curiosity, which still made her uncomfortable because she suddenly felt like she was being studied like some kind of experiment. Mai’s lips twitched before a heavy breath left her.

“It needs to be asked, you know. What the fuck you were doing going out into a storm like that.”

Katara hesitated. “I just-,”

“Heroic is one thing, but that was-,” Mai gave her a critical look. “Well, brash is putting it lightly.”

“I wanted to help,” she said weakly. 

Mai crossed her arms. “And you were willing to die?”

“It’s—a risk I’ve taken before,” Katara said.

“For people you care about, maybe, not total strangers.”

“A _lot_ of total strangers.”

Mai shifted and raised an eyebrow. “I just want to know what you think you needed to prove.”

Katara started. “Nothing, I’m not-,” She ran a few fingers through the hair at her temple. “I’m not trying to prove anything.”

She gave a disbelieving scoff while she shook her head. “Aang is really lucky, you know,” she remarked. “No one _ever_ doubts that little twerp.”

“Mai, he’s _seventeen_ -,”

She waved her hand dismissively. “Whatever, the point is, because he’s the _Avatar_ , people worship him, his ideas. Validation all the time. Meanwhile you’re sloughing through the fucking mud listening to old men tell you what you can’t do.”

Katara gave a half-hearted shrug. “It’s—better now-,”

“You don’t owe anything to anyone, Katara,” she said. “You don’t need to prove you’re good enough because you _are_.”

She told herself that, all the time. When she heard snide comments, when her age was mentioned _far_ more than anyone else’s, and not what she’d done or who she defeated. She had not quite convinced herself of the truth of that statement, though her confidence was growing, and Mai spoke not with conviction, but with an airy, uncaring tone that made everything she said sound like incontrovertible fact. In any event, she doubted Mai cared enough about her to lie.

“That’s very nice of you to say,” Katara replied, though her eyes dropped and she cleared her throat quickly after.

Mai gave an annoyed—or maybe apathetic—exhale. “Sorry, I didn’t come to berate you with compliments.”

“I don’t mind,” Katara said, cheeks flushed, since she’d never been complimented by Mai otherwise.

“It’s not good enough, after what you did,” she said.

“It is, I promise. I don’t expect anything in return.”

Mai ignored her, giving a thoughtful look instead. “I’ll think of something.”

“We can call it even with a fruit tart, I swear,” Katara insisted.

“That would have to be one delicious fruit tart,” she remarked, eyebrow quirked again.

Katara gave her arm a reassuring squeeze. “The risk was worth it,” she said. “And it turned out alright in the end.”

Mai was back to studying her, and patted her hand with her slender fingers before gliding past her back onto the street. “I’ll see you soon, Katara.”

She wondered what that meant, what Mai could possibly think she needed to do to make this up to her. Katara truly did not expect or want anything, and frankly discussing it in detail made her uncomfortable because Mai was right that her motivations were brash and hard to discern. _Heroism_ wasn’t some easy answer for it, no matter how desperately she wanted it to be. There was more, always more, just like deep down she knew, had known for four years, that Zuko’s heroism during the Agni Kai wasn’t a simple act of sacrifice.

Katara audibly winced at these terrible, complicated situations that she kept thinking and worrying about— _caring_ about, when that would only hurt more in the end.

She decided she’d rather just eat a fruit tart as a thank you and not think about it at all. 

====

When Katara finally cracked the seal of what felt like her long-abandoned office, she found piles of scrolls and correspondence on her desk, which made her barely suppress a groan as she sat down. She’d hardly had time for the typical matters that required her attention given how many different directions she was being pulled in, and she lamented the many candles she’d burn down to nothing going through all this paperwork. Still, having time to do this meant things were returning to some semblance of normalcy after days of chaos.

After several hours of work and even more organizing, she caught fleeting glimpses of the wood surface of her desk, which was promising. As she began to wonder whether it would be socially acceptable to eat an entire honey cake as a late lunch, she heard a knock at her door.

She assumed it was more paperwork, so she grimaced, but when she looked up Zuko was standing in front of her dressed in his regalia. He always looked so much broader and larger in it, which she told herself she _didn’t_ like. 

“Pretty sure you don’t have to knock, Zuko,” she remarked with a bemused grin.

“Because I’m the Fire Lord or your friend?”

“I don’t answer to the Fire Lord, so the second one,” she replied.

He shuffled a little further into the room. “Could we talk?” 

“You sound so serious,” she said, as she looked up and propped her chin in the middle of her palm. 

He gave a sheepish shrug. “Sorry, that’s—kind of my default,” he said. “It’s good. For you. I mean—if you want it to be.”

She raised an eyebrow. “What is it exactly?”

Zuko finally sat down, though the chair in her office was small and with his mass of robes he looked cramped. _Adorable idiot_ , she thought to herself, and then, _shut up, Katara_.

She tried to pay attention because he started speaking. “You’ll recall we were supposed to go to Ba Sing Se in two weeks to meet with Kuei and discuss the situation in Yu Dao.”

“Is that really prudent with everything that’s happened?” she asked. 

He shook his head. “Not for me, no. I can’t be seen abandoning the capital right now.”

She reached for a fresh piece of parchment on her desk. “I agree, I’ll write something to Kuei-,”

“You know that will upset him. He already thinks I’ve been avoiding this for too long,” Zuko said. “I think you should go.”

“What—alone?” she began incredulously. “And represent the Fire Nation?”

“You’re on my council, you can act in my stead,” he said. 

Katara gave a short scoff and looked back at her papers. “Don’t be ridiculous, Zuko.”

“You are by far the most logical choice,” he insisted. “You’re friends with Aang, you were in Yu Dao when the talks first began, it was _your idea_ -,”

“It’s controversial,” she said shortly. 

He shifted in the chair and tried to lean forward. “Listen, I’m not giving you—entirely free reign to agree to whatever you want, we will have to discuss, but you know what I’m comfortable with on this issue.”

She gave a heavy exhale—she was conflicted, obviously. No doubt there was appeal to spearheading these talks, but she was his junior-most council member and not even _from_ the Fire Nation. 

“I appreciate the gesture, Zuko, but I just don’t think it’s a good idea,” she eventually said, rubbing her brow.

“Well I think it is,” he replied.

That put them at quite an impasse, and she threw a glare in his direction to make perfectly clear that just because he was the Fire Lord and thought something was a good idea did _not_ mean she had to do it.

She stood instead and walked across the room, eyes out the window and drumming her fingers against the sill. She _wanted_ to go, quite badly. This is precisely why she agreed to be on Zuko’s council in the first place, because the young Fire Lord got to make choices whose consequences stretched far beyond the boundaries of his own country.

Katara wanted to make those choices, too, but striking out alone as a fresh-faced council member on behalf of the entire Fire Nation was maybe too bold even for her. Or foolhardy, at least, no matter how much Zuko trusted her.

Still, she could not let this opportunity pass by--could not let herself think she was not ready or not good enough--so as was often the case these days she searched desperately for a compromise that was not too onerous.

“Dai should come too,” she finally said. 

She heard his robes rustle as he turned to face her. “I’m sorry, you _want_ that?” he asked.

“Not—particularly,” she said, frowning. “But the most flack you’ll get with this whole situation is that you’re siphoning too much coin away from _Fire Nation issues_ , especially with the storm, people are going to care a lot more than before-,”

He stood and waved his hand. “I’ve allocated plenty to the relief effort and our renewed international cooperation has made it _cheaper_ -,”

“Dai likes to save money. It’s going to look good for him to be there,” she insisted. “To make sure this whole endeavor is, you know, fiscally responsible. And he is the most senior member of your council.”

He walked over to stand beside her. She looked back out the window because his stupid face made her feel too many things.

“You’re the only one I can trust, Katara.”

She could admit that she liked hearing those words, but it was more than that with Zuko. For so long she felt like her purpose, especially with Aang, was to take care of people, provide for them, so they could turn around and save the world. Zuko wanted her to stand beside him and make choices herself, _that’s_ how he needed her, that’s why he trusted her. 

Those thoughts were too emotional for a discussion about the minutiae of Fire Nation politics, in her office, no less—her throat was tight without even saying anything.

She quickly shook her head. “I know, Zuko, and I’ll be there, just—not alone.”

“You think I’m playing favorites,” he said, lips pursed in a pout. 

“Aren’t you?” she asked, finally looking over at him.

“You have more leverage over Kuei and Aang than anyone, they both adore you, if anything _I’m_ taking advantage of you,” he said. 

“Bosco’s a big fan of mine too,” she remarked with a grin. 

He was still serious and earnest, as usual. “You’re the perfect candidate for this.”

She sighed and pushed her hair behind her ears. “That doesn’t mean Dai shouldn’t also come.”

“But you’ll do it?”

“Yeah, of course,” she said, sounding defeated, even though she shouldn't have been. “I would love to.” 

“Thank you, Katara,” he said, in that warm, raspy voice she sometimes wished she could hear at night, and he held one arm open to her, and she really couldn’t help but fall into him with her hands locked together around his waist because he was tall and strong and smelled so nice. 

“This does not help your _I’m not playing favorites_ argument,” she muttered against his robes. 

He put his other arm around her. “I don’t know what you mean, I hug all my advisors like this.”

Katara gave a half-annoyed snort but squeezed him tighter. “And here I thought I was special.”

“Nope,” he said. “I can hardly stand you.”

She grinned. “Well that’s too bad because you’re my favorite Fire Lord.”

“I can’t take that as much of a compliment given my predecessors,” he replied. 

Katara was being lulled by the slow rise of his chest and his arms around her back. She’d closed her eyes and could hear his heartbeat—she wasn’t as seasoned as Toph at understanding whether the gentle thump meant anything. Maybe she hoped it did.

“Favorite person, then,” she murmured, nuzzling against his robes.

She apparently continued to _inappropriately_ enjoy herself for a few moments before she realized Zuko was quiet. His grip had loosened, body completely still—she was generous to herself and thought maybe he wasn’t paying attention but the silence stretched and soon the sound of her blood pounding in her ears drowned out his heartbeat. Spirits, why had she _said that_? As if _now_ was a good time to say _hey Zuko you’re literally my favorite person on Earth which, you know, could also mean I’m a little in love with you_ -

She unclasped her hands and shrunk back from him, bright red. “Uh, sorry-,”

A knock at the door interrupted her, jarring her badly like she’d been shocked and she whirled around to the sound. Zuko stepped back and turned in the opposite direction because this was not the _touching_ and the _conversation_ that should be happening in her office with the _Fire Lord_.

It was a messenger, who she could only see part of since she opened the door just enough to make eye contact and accept the small scroll in his hand with a polite smile.

To buy herself time, and so she wouldn’t have to turn back around, she unfurled the parchment and lamented that it was a very short note. She fiddled with the corner using the pad of her thumb before lifting her head again.

“I told Ming I would meet her,” she remarked. “I should get going before I’m late.”

“Katara-,”

“And you need to talk to Dai,” she added, thrusting every ounce of her concentration into sounding casual.

Zuko shifted, eyes searching desperately, but she couldn’t stand to meet his gaze because she’d say something else stupid or embarrassing. She gave him a tight smile and slipped out the door— _retreated_ out the door, actually, because even _if_ Zuko scrambled to soothe her with some kind words, it wouldn’t matter, it wasn’t smart. He was clearly hesitating, rightfully, to get involved in a relationship that would go nowhere if the Fire Sages got their way.

So she clenched her papers to her chest and walked faster down the hallway.

====

A few days out of the year it was cold in the Fire Nation. Well, not cold, _chilly_ , according to Katara. It had never snowed, in Zuko’s memory, or even froze, but only a week and a half after the storm, his breath was a puff of white in front of him as he hurried through the gardens to a meeting. It was somewhat unseasonable weather for this time of year, but certainly not cold enough to warrant any alarm. Mostly it just meant his toes were a little numb at night, and he wished he could be holding Katara again because even though she was a waterbender she somehow managed to make him feel like he was on fire when she was around him.

It was becoming a problem, this torch he carried for her, burning brighter by the second and threatening to consume him. Hiding it, maybe, was causing the most consternation, expending his energy at every single turn, in every _single_ interaction because he never, ever said or did what he wanted. That restraint was exhausting. The alternative was telling her the truth, which was out of the question, even when she said nice things that completely paralyzed him.

 _Favorite person, then_ , she’d said, like she didn’t know it would break him into a million tiny pieces because even being _liked_ by her was more than he deserved given their history— _his_ history of shameless betrayal.

He’d begun to think she wanted more, like him. She blushed so prettily around him when they were close, told him all those nice things, looked at him like she was _waiting_ sometimes. Hoping.

Zuko thought about grabbing her by the arms when they were close and asking her what she wanted. Maybe she would want _him_ , but what did that even mean? She couldn’t have him, not really, unless she wanted to agree to a life of thankless work and scrutiny living in a nation that was once the source of all her problems. It felt silly to even ask, or to kid himself into thinking they could somehow manage to have an uncomplicated fling as if Aang, his best friend, was not still also pining for her or that it made any sense at all to feel more for her if he’d only have to cast her aside for a Fire Nation noble someday. 

He focused on his work instead—those were frankly easier problems and he was usually pretty efficient when Katara wasn’t around staring at him with that arresting gaze of hers.

And work was naturally more demanding than usual in the days following the storm—he rose early to take as many meetings as possible, which was a decent distraction. In the spare moments he had, when he wasn’t crisscrossing the road from the caldera to the harbor, he returned to his office to take care of a massive backlog of reports. 

The day the cold snap hit the capital, he returned to his chambers to find them occupied, dashing his hopes of answering the letters that were building a foreboding stack on his desk. To his surprise, Mai was waiting for him, hands tucked primly in her long robes. She turned when he opened the door and nodded in acknowledgement to him. 

He paused for a moment before walking to her. “Mai,” he said. “I’ve been meaning to find you-,”

“You’ve been busy, I’m sure,” she replied. 

He unloaded some papers on his desk and turned to face her. “How are you?”

“A little shaken, but we’re okay,” she said with a weak attempt at a smile. 

“That’s good, if there’s anything I can do-,”

Mai shook her head—her face was pinched, tense, more than usual, though Zuko was not as attune to her small expressions as he used to be. “I came to help you, actually.” 

“Help with what?”

She hesitated, unable to meet his gaze, before she handed him a scroll that was tucked in her robes. “You’ll be angry, but I hope you can understand.”

He accepted the parchment with a furrowed brow. “I’m worried now.”

Mai sighed. “I know I gave you a lot of grief about not opening up to me, but I—was a hypocrite, I was keeping my own secrets, too,” she said. “I just—I truly had no idea how to tell you this.”

His heart had started pounding fast—he and Mai had not interacted for _many_ months, so he couldn’t begin to fathom what she was talking about.

“Mai, what’s wrong?”

She ran one pale hand across her hair. “I’m sure you know my father hasn’t been exactly, um, pleased with everything you’ve done since the war.”

“Yes, I can imagine a former supporter of Ozai wouldn’t be,” Zuko replied with a slight frown.

Her eyes finally rose to his—she looked _guilty_ , voice wavering. “I never paid any attention to his activities, you know. Never cared about it, but I—I owe you, and I had this sinking feeling…”

“What is he doing?” Zuko asked.

She swallowed hard—he wanted to shake the truth out of her, but she spoke before he could express any impatience.

“He’s spearheading the New Ozai Society,” she said. “All the assassination attempts, the dissent—it’s him.”

Zuko’s faint frown deepened to a scowl, and he clenched his fist, anger consuming him, which was a sensation that used to happen far too frequently. He twisted on his heel to face his desk, trying to wrangle the rage because he wanted to scream at her and really shouldn’t. But Mai’s _apathy_ almost cost him, and more importantly Sokka, their lives.

“I’m so sorry, Zuko,” she said softly. “I swear I didn’t know, and I was scared…”

“You have proof?” he said through clenched teeth.

Mai gestured weakly to the scroll she handed him. “I found some correspondence a few days ago. I know where they’re meeting next—you ambush them and you’ll have everything you need.”

 _How convenient_ , he wanted to sneer, but didn’t because he was afraid he’d lose it completely.

“I should have known,” he muttered darkly. Maybe in the back of his mind he always had and couldn’t find a way to cast aspersions on his girlfriend’s father.

“I’m sorry,” Mai said again.

Zuko straightened and exhaled heavily. The suffocating grip his rage had on him loosened, so he could breathe a little. He couldn’t fairly berate Mai for the mistakes of her father, giving who his _own_ family was, and by turning in Ukano, she was sacrificing a lot.

“You knew all this time?” he asked.

She sharply shook her head. “No, not that he’d gone this far,” she said. “I heard him complain from time to time, but that’s all, and then after you and I broke up, he started dropping hints and I—I wasn’t paying attention, didn’t want to think about it, but-,” Her brow furrowed deeply, her utter despair breaking through and his anger evaporated even further. “But I decided I needed to know the truth and my suspicions were right.”

“He’ll go to prison,” Zuko said. “For—a very long time.”

Mai laced her fingers together, trying to project that placid expression she wore so well but failing this time. “He deserves it,” she replied quietly.

He faced her and put a hand on her arm. “I will try to do what I can-,”

She put her fingers over his, but only to unlatch his grip. “Everyone will think our entire family is complicit,” she said. “He may have even taken Tom-Tom to those stupid meetings. We’ll be going to the Earth Kingdom.”

“You don’t have to flee,” he insisted.

“We need to lie low,” Mai said. “You can’t afford to look weak.”

She was right, of course, but he hated that, though maybe _she_ didn’t since she never really liked her life in the Fire Nation anyway. Zuko pushed back the hair across his forehead.

“What made you decide to tell me this now?” he asked.

“I thought Katara may appreciate less people trying to kill her boyfriend,” Mai explained. “You'll recall I owe her big time.”

He stiffened. “Oh, she’s—I mean, we’re not, uh-,” 

She rolled her eyes. “You know that look and these _denials_ have gone from mildly endearing to _annoying_.”

He sputtered quite indignantly. “I’m just being _honest_ -,”

“Oh please, you’ve never quite excelled at honesty, Zuko,” Mai replied. 

“I never lied-,”

“You couldn’t even tell the truth about where you got that stupid scar,” she interjected with a skeptical look. 

“How could you say that?” he began defensively. “You know that my father-,”

She put a sharp fingernail directly in the center of his chest. “This scar, Zuko.”

He stopped, red creeping up his neck to his cheeks, because he may have indeed obfuscated _heavily_ in reference to that particular event—he could hardly face Katara thinking about what he did, he certainly didn’t want to delve further with his girlfriend about why exactly he was risking life and limb for someone else.

“I—I told you, it was the Agni Kai against my sister.”

Mai dropped her hand. “And what happened?”

“Azula shot lightning at me,” he said. 

Mai made a mildly disgusted sound. “She shot lightning at _Katara_ , and you jumped in front of it to _die_ because you _love her_.”

“No, Mai, I didn’t,” he interjected immediately, though his lungs clenched so tight he almost couldn’t get the words out. “I-I don’t.”

“You don’t _want to_ ,” she replied. “There’s a difference.”

It’s not that he didn’t _want_ to, it’s that he—he _couldn’t_. It was far too much to ask of Katara, and as usual more than he deserved.

“Mai, I never—we never-,”

“For fuck’s sake, I’m not accusing you of being unfaithful,” she said. “We both know why we were together. And it’s ancient history.”

He sighed. “I know, but-,”

Mai grabbed the robes at his elbows. “I know you like to talk yourself in circles, Zuko, but I literally _don’t care_ ,” she said. “I owe Katara, and I _hate_ owing people. Whether you’re madly in love with her or not—I mean, you are, but I could care fucking less if you _do_ anything about it—I _know_ Katara will be happier if you’re safer, and I can make you safer.”

“But your life will be destroyed,” he protested.

“I’d rather live in exile than have lost my mother and Tom-Tom,” she said. “And I know I didn’t have to do this, but you are a good Fire Lord, and my father should be stopped.”

Zuko was quiet, and she dropped her arms, giving an impatient look, like he was supposed to know what to say or suddenly be okay with this massive turn of events.

“Thank you, Mai,” he eventually said.

She crossed her arms. “That meeting is soon, you should gather some soldiers while you can,” she said. “We’ve packed our valuables and will be in Ember Island for a while until we make it back to Omashu.”

“You know you’re always welcome here,” he said.

Mai smiled faintly and then hugged him, to his surprise, squeezing tight. He held her back for a few moments, feeling nostalgic and maybe a little sad that the last fixture of his life from his childhood, the only _good_ thing from that time, would be gone. Mai wanted to pretend that wasn't a big deal, but it was, for both of them.

She squirmed in his embrace and cleared her throat. “Good luck, Zuko,” she murmured, when they stepped back, and before he could think of what to say, she was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank y'all as always for your wonderful comments and support! I've lost all sense of appropriate chapter length so hopefully this was long enough to still be enjoyable!


	19. Chapter 19

Mai’s snooping into her father’s business affairs proved helpful—her intelligence was on point and when his guards ambushed the place she directed, they found Ukano and a number of others surrounded by particularly damning evidence. Zuko would have loved to go himself and burn it all down, but he did not want those men to feel like they mattered, like this was important enough for him, the Fire Lord, to address, or that they were any kind of serious threat. (Even though they had been.)

It wasn’t a solution to all his problems. Yes, he took down one loosely assembled group of incensed nobles, but there were others with less outright murderous intentions who hoped for his demise. Not to mention even if people didn’t _want_ him to fail, there were still plenty of blunders he could made, lives he could doom.

There was a frenetic burst of activity after the raid, with some of his ministers, the captain of his personal guard, but the New Ozai Society was otherwise apprehended without preamble and the men escorted to the prison to await trial.

Really what plagued him about his conversation with Mai was what she had said about Katara— _that_ was a problem without an easy solution. Zuko had resigned himself to suffering in silence for—eternity, but found it disquieting and embarrassing that his _actual girlfriend_ had deduced that he had feelings for her. Maybe not deduced, maybe it was so painstakingly obvious he had it so badly for Katara that ten seconds of seeing them together belied exactly how much of a lovesick fool he was. Mai should be the last person who could see that, and yet she spoke with confidence and clarity, as if it was undisputed how he felt when he’d only ever told her the exact opposite. He felt guilty, but also utterly hopeless. He’d nurtured these ruinous feelings for years, if he was honest, and Katara only continued to endear herself more and more to him; he felt like at any moment he would shatter. 

By the end of the day, even before dinner, he was exhausted and retreated to his room to tear himself out of his formal clothes that seemed to get heavier every week. He had just returned his crown to its designated and highly ornate box when he heard a knock. He didn’t speak right away and was briefly startled when the door opened anyway.

It was Katara, of course, which he should have known, and she poked her head through the slightly ajar door, hair falling after her.

“Come in,” he said, and she disappeared briefly before walking all the way into the room.

“Out of the robes already?” she asked when she was close enough.

“I’m taking dinner in here,” he said. “Lots of reports to read.”

Katara crossed the room to the doors of his terrace that were flung open. She turned and gave him a critical look as she gestured to his dark fireplace. 

“Windows open, no fire—aren’t you cold?”

He snorted as he shut his crown away and turned to face her. “That’s a silly question.”

Katara feigned offense and twisted back to terrace, walking onto it with arms folded to pretend to pout.

“I can start a fire!” he called after her, but she just glared over her shoulder and stuck out her tongue. 

He followed her with a chuckle and briefly put his hands on her shoulders from behind—she relaxed under his touch, but he couldn’t stay that way for long without having more dangerous thoughts, so he just stood next to her.

“Did you come here to do anything other than pout and freeze to death in the cold?”

“It’s _chilly_ ,” she corrected, then wrapped her arms loosely around her chest again. “And I came to ask about the unit of soldiers I saw leaving the palace earlier. Is everything alright?”

“Good news, actually,” he remarked, thankful for the change of subject since she looked cold and he wanted to pull her tight against him. 

“Really?”

“Think we may have finally put an end to the New Ozai Society.”

She spun on her heel to face him. “Are you serious?” she said. “How?”

“Found their leader, where they meet,” he explained, then frowned slightly. “It’s not—all good news.”

“What do you mean?” she asked. 

Zuko sighed and looked down. “It was Mai’s father.”

Her eyes widened. “Oh, spirits-,” she began, than grabbed his arm. “Zuko, she would _never_ -,”

“I know, I know,” he interjected hastily. “Mai is the one who turned him in.”

“What about Tom-Tom and her mother?” Katara asked. “Are they alright?”

“Fled to the Earth Kingdom, with Mai,” he replied. “I told her she didn’t need to, but she said I would look weak otherwise.”

Katara was quiet for a few moments, looking back out, probably at the ocean now, the little specks that were ships bobbing in the waves. “What made her do it?”

“You.”

Her eyes snapped back to him, surprised, and she shook her head. “Mai didn’t need to thank me-,”

“You saved her entire family.” 

Katara blushed and dropped her chin, unable to take such praise, so she deflected.

“Were there others, like her father?”

“A few. Not as many as I expected, honestly,” he admitted. 

A smile tugged at her lip. “Maybe you’ve converted some people.”

“I’ll take not wanting to outright assassinate me as a win, I guess,” he muttered. 

Katara leaned sideways and bumped into him, a playful nudge, saying without words _don’t be so negative, Zuko_. She lingered after, their arms overlapping slightly, and he looked ahead rather than at her because surely she’d see the desperate pining in his eyes and be—repelled by it.

He wanted to be bold like before and put his arm around her, but his bravery only worked in fits and starts, punctuated far more frequently by his fumbling. He cleared his throat after a few moments because he was afraid she’d leave the longer they sat in silence.

“Are you…enjoying the weather?” he asked, swallowing a wince after he finished. 

She smiled slightly, at him, at his awkwardness, but tried valiantly to hide it, lips pressed tight. “Ironically I should have dressed better for it,” she remarked, then she paused and turned to him, offering her palms up to him. “Can you warm my hands?”

He stared at her, gobsmacked like a fucking _idiot_ , before he hastily pulled his hands out of his pockets. “Yeah, sorry, of course.”

He took her hands—they _were_ colder than usual, and he slid his fingers along the back of her palms. He squeezed, maybe too tight, because he was afraid his own hands were shaking. If she noticed he was nervous, she didn’t say anything, just gave a satisfied hum. 

“Will people be okay, in this weather?” she asked absently, as she looked sideways past the balcony down to the harbor. He loved how much she cared, the compassion that just came so easily to her. 

His heart was beating in his throat—maybe that’s why he couldn’t breathe, but he tried to focus. “It won’t freeze,” he said. “And firebenders do pretty well in the cold.”

She lifted their hands slightly. “You should offer your personal heating services in the South Pole, you’d be very popular.”

“Might be a nice change,” he murmured. His fingers skimmed higher up her arm, her skin was cold there too, and he wondered if he shouldn’t, but she didn’t protest, eyes fluttering shut and she maybe liked it-

She was so beautiful. It invaded his mind, strangled his every thought, it was all he could focus on—that he wanted her, that he _loved her_ -

“Oh, Zuko, ow— _ow_ -,”

She squirmed in his grasp, and he snatched his hands back—he realized in utter horror that he’d _burned_ her with his palm in his attempt to warm her, a little red mark near her wrist, and his stomach lurched.

“Katara, I—I’m so _sorry_ -,”

She gave a little laugh. “Zuko, it’s fine,” she said and lifted her arm to get a closer look at the burn, while he stood there paralyzed by regret and sweating despite the cold weather.

Katara craned her neck around, looking for water, but there wasn’t any, and he was ready to bolt back into the palace and frantically search for some, when she fluttered the fingers on her other hand, willing water to appear out of—thin air really. Just a few drops, enough to soothe over the pinkish mark and heal it.

“See,” she said, flipping her arm to show him after she’d pulled the water away. “All better.”

He lifted his eyes to meet hers. “I didn’t know you could get water like that.”

“Only a little,” she said.

It was amazing what she could do. He was doomed from the start, he realized, against a force like her.

“That’s—incredible, Katara.”

She gave him a teasing smile. “See, you shouldn’t have worried so much about me in that storm.”

“I’m sorry,” he said hastily. “I lost my temper and-,”

She stepped closer and touched his arm. “No, it’s okay,” she assured him. “I thought you’d-,” A red rose up her cheeks. “Try harder to stop me, to be honest. Chase after me.”

Zuko sighed. “I had no right. You wouldn’t be— _you_ if for my own personal interest I insisted you stay-,” He rubbed his neck. “Sequestered in the palace or something.”

Katara was quiet, and he was afraid he’d said something wrong, but her fingers rose to clench the fabric of his sleeve and she closed the space between them even more. “I appreciate that, Zuko.”

“I still do hate it,” he admitted. “It’s selfish, but if anything ever happened to you, I’d-,” He swallowed thickly. “Well, I couldn’t bear it.”

He didn’t know if he should have admitted that a life without her was not a life to him at all. It was a feeling he’d had before, many, many years ago, when he leapt in front of her to exchange his own life for hers and couldn’t admit why.

She didn’t recoil at the intensity of his words, though, just looked up at him, the space between her brows puckered slightly.

“I couldn’t bear it either,” she murmured. 

The last time she conveyed that kind of sentiment he’d been blindsided by it. Up until recently, barring his mother or Iroh, no one exactly expressed those kinds of emotions to him, and for Katara—who he adored and _betrayed_ to do that—it had been entirely too overwhelming to think he could actually have what he wanted for so long.

“You’re—very much my favorite person, Katara,” he said. “I’m sorry if I—you just surprised me. Before.”

Her brow furrowed further. “Surprised?”

“I never thought-,” He hesitated and cleared his throat. “I mean, up until recently you were—we were-,”

She gave him an incredulous look. “I’m not sure it’s _recent_ if five years ago we were enemies.”

“Yeah, _enemies_ -,”

“And idiot teenagers!” she finished exasperatedly, then gestured to him. “Well, you moreso, but-,” 

“I deserve to be _tolerated_ at best, Katara,” he insisted. “You should want more—something _better_ -,”

Her wide eyes flashed, glinting with that self-righteous look, and she drew herself up while she inhaled a breath through her nose, as if she was preparing to release one of her passionate onslaughts on him. Instead she just leveled that penetrating, defiant gaze at him.

“Don’t tell me what I should want, Zuko.”

Katara was awfully close to him now. If he had his formal robes on, her feet would have probably disappeared under them. He wondered if she could feel his heart racing, just from their proximity, looking at her bright blue eyes and wishing he could see her thoughts in them, to know with certainty that this heaviness he felt between them wasn’t just a figment of his imagination.

The same desperate thoughts crossed well-tread paths in his mind— _you can’t have her, you can’t betray Aang, you can’t feel more for her and cast her aside someday_.

Zuko faltered, even to himself—the truth was so hard to hide sometimes. He could never, ever leave her for anyone else, Fire Lord or not. He was permanently and pathetically and incontrovertibly in love with her, as if nobles or politics or the Fire Sages would ever stop him from giving her what she wanted, if _he_ was what she wanted. 

“Do you want me to kiss you?” he asked, voice a quiet rasp.

Katara looked startled—she just _blinked_ at him, and then a soft, surprised sound left her. A laugh, almost, she was _laughing_ at him, but before he could be embarrassed, she grabbed him, fisting the fabric of his tunic in her hands and pulling them together.

She kissed him, hard, because of course she wouldn’t be short and sweet about it. She seized what she wanted, relentlessly. Like a wave crashing into him, and he was happy to be dragged by the current this time—he grabbed her around the waist, drawing her flush against him, meeting the intensity of her kiss.

Her arms twined around his neck, fingers dragging along the nape of his neck into his hair, and he shivered, but not at all from the cold. She opened her mouth and it was better than anything—really _anything_ —he could imagine. And he had spent months imagining what it would be like to be with her and telling himself it couldn’t happen. He reciprocated, always following hopelessly after her, crushing her to him as close as he possibly could and giving a soft but nonetheless mortifying groan when her tongue slid across his. 

She separated from him eventually, probably to breathe, which he hadn’t recalled doing since she first stepped towards him. He felt dizzy, panting like he’d just trained for hours—he was glad he was clinging to her so tightly.

“Uh, wow-,”

Wow? _Wow_? Zuko wanted to melt into a puddle and die, but Katara gave a coy smile.

“Well you did ask,” she whispered. 

“I should have a long time ago,” he replied hoarsely. “I was scared that you…”

Katara ran her hands across both his cheeks, over his scar and pulled his face down to hers again. Her lips weren’t cold anymore, or her hands. Her mouth gently brushed his, then he pressed harder because her fingers had wrested his self-control from him. She pulled back, which was probably better because he wasn’t supposed to feel this way in his gut and—other places after one kiss.

“You don’t have to worry,” she said. Her lip curled up in a languid smile and then she nestled her head under his chin.

He squeezed her back—they’d hugged before, but he wanted to hold her like this forever because he was a besotted idiot. He supposed he could be persuaded to release her if it meant they could kiss more, but he didn’t know if he was supposed to ask again, or every time, or if she was doing this for different reasons than him.

His chances were ruined when there was a knock at his door. Katara leapt back, red-faced, staggering a little she’d done it so abruptly. His heart stopped, plummeted to his stomach, but he couldn’t blame her for being cagey. There was gossip enough, for her to be seen in the arms of the Fire Lord would probably not do her any favors.

No one entered immediately this time, so he strode across the room to his door, pulling it open to accept a few messages—delivered to him personally probably meant they were quite urgent and he tried not to scowl _at_ the messenger delivering them.

When he shut the door, Katara had also crossed the room. Her expression was inscrutable for a moment before she smiled slightly.

“This is why I tell you that you need a vacation.”

“Only if you come with me,” he replied, then was infinitely pleased with himself when she blushed and touched her hair.

He apparently looked too smug because she gave him a light shove. “Who are you and what have you done with Zuko?”

“I can be charming,” he said defensively.

She quirked an eyebrow. “Like when you told me I was _okay looking_ on Ember Island?”

“I—I wasn’t—it’s not as if you _wanted_ me to flirt with you then,” he sputtered.

“Maybe if you were better at it,” she said with a smirk.

Zuko stepped closer. “I can make it up to you now.”

She tilted her chin up to meet his gaze. He leaned closer, wanting desperately to kiss her again, but she clenched her hands in his robe and spoke.

“You have work, I should go,” she insisted.

“Shouldn’t we talk?” he asked. 

She seemed to be holding her breath before she shook her head. “No—it’s, um, okay, I know I burst into here and you’re busy-,”

“Not too busy for you,” he protested.

“Tomorrow,” she said with a reassuring smile. “We’ll find time.” 

He tried not to look too disappointed. “I might be done soon, you don’t-,”

She gave a half laugh and soothed her hand down his chest. “I promise I’m not going anywhere.”

“Right,” he replied with a sheepish look. “Uh, sorry-,”

Katara pushed herself onto her toes and kissed his cheek. He was flustered by it, and by the time he thought to put his hands on her waist, she was stepping back. 

Because he was not actually charming _at all_ , he wanted to grab her and tell her he loved her. That was _probably_ not a great or terribly romantic confession as she was on her way out the door, so he just watched her give a small wave and disappear out of the room, while he had the stupidest smile on his face for the rest of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did very genuinely have two scenes for this chapter, but the second is SO long I separated them, but I promise to have it posted soon! (It's Katara's POV and she is spiraling y'all.) Hope y'all have enjoyed!!


	20. Chapter 20

Katara was a chronic over-thinker. It came with the territory of being conscripted into the role of _mother_ at such a young age. Any lingering sense of lightheartedness, spontaneity, even, was ripped from her, and she was always planning ahead, weighing alternatives, and even when nice things happened, she couldn’t help but—spiral.

There was a _very_ good reason she had refused to share her more romantic feelings for Zuko. She articulated them frequently, intoning them over and over in her mind. Apparently they were not quite compelling enough because when that handsome idiot had asked if she wanted to kiss him, she couldn’t even pretend for a second that she wasn’t going to grab him and do exactly what she wanted, like the weak coward that she was.

It had been truly wonderful. Nothing like the wooden kisses Aang had planted on her, or the sloppy one, from that boy in the South Pole when she was seventeen, but unlike those times, she’d left the room and—and _panicked_.

When the warmth from his touch had evaporated, when her thoughts were not so scattered, all she could ask herself was the question that always haunted her— _now what_?

What, exactly, did she hope to accomplish with Zuko? To be an object of the council’s ridicule for sleeping with the Fire Lord? To act as romantic entertainment for him until he found a _suitable_ wife? To try, break-up, have _two_ ex-boyfriends among her group of friends _and_ have to leave her job?

To be _Fire Lady_?

Spirits, she was an idiot. What had been so wrong with pining uselessly for him? Other than the slow torture of their every romantically-charged interaction resulting in _nothing_ , and the looming dread she felt thinking about watching him be with someone else? That all felt livable when the alternative was blowing up her life for something she wasn’t even sure she wanted.

She hated that she couldn't just stay in his room and enjoy kissing him (among other things) and listening to him heap praise on her. That all sounded delightful, but it was a fantasy—somehow she knew they’d be caught and all the pernicious gossip about her would no longer be just gossip. It would be fact, and she’d either be the future Fire Lady of the Fire Nation or Zuko’s sexual interlude until a carbon copy of Mai could be found. And frankly the idea of sinking years into a relationship when she _already_ hated the idea of Zuko marrying someone else seemed like a recipe for unfathomable heartbreak, no matter how good it felt to be with him now.

Really the only solution was _talking_ to Zuko about her concerns—her younger self would have preferred she slink off into the darkness, permanently, and avoid that uncomfortable eventuality, but she knew from experience it was better to tell the truth now then spend months, maybe years, together only for him to (albeit regretfully) set her aside for his duty, or for her to be unable to accept the mantle of Fire Lady. Or, worse, for their relationship to not work because of their personalities and to decay to the point where she couldn’t even manage on his council, when she’d worked so hard to get there.

The next day she asked to meet Zuko in his sitting room, which was probably the most neglected of his chambers—it was well-suited for small private gatherings of the Fire Lord but really the last thing he wanted to do after all his work during the day was socialize _more_ , so the room was left largely vacant. Still she’d selected it because the gardens would be too public and his bedroom far too dangerous for the thoughts she had about him sometimes.

She sent a note to his office and two seconds after relinquishing the scroll, considered chasing after the messenger and crumpling the note into the bin. She did not, so he received it, and she crept into the room early and paced a little.

Zuko was late, which she didn’t mind, because she just paced more. It was still cold out, so eventually she sat close to the fire, dragged the insane number of pillows on the couch down so she could prop herself up. She opened the window, too, obviously a confusing mix, but somehow the warm air was too stifling as she considered what she was supposed to say when Zuko finally appeared.

She curled up on a stack of pillows, arms tucked around her, face too hot from the fire and feet too cold on the smooth floor because she was miserable and panicking and just wanted _the right answer_ to all this and couldn’t find one. 

She must have fallen asleep at some point because the next thing she knew, the door was opening and she bolted awake, blinking and trying to rub the grogginess from her eyes. It was dark out, colder, but she had no idea how much time had passed.

Zuko had walked into the room with tea. He gave her a curious look seeing the messy landscape of pillows around her but set the tray on the floor at her feet.

“Sorry, I got caught up,” he said.

Katara straightened and stretched out her back since she’d slept slumped sideways and it hadn’t been terribly comfortable. “How long was I out?”

Zuko had changed clothes, so it was a little easier when he went to sit with her on the floor. He noticed the glowing embers in the fireplace and stoked them with a wave of his hand—she ignored that the golden light made his handsome features more visible.

“It’s still pretty early,” he replied. “Are you tired?”

She scrubbed her face with both hands because she wanted to be alert for the disaster that would be this conversation. “Long day at the hospital healing, and meetings with Dai always make me particularly drowsy.”

He was quiet—she could see his throat bobbing nervously while he looked at the fire. “I’m, uh, glad you’re here. That you wanted to meet.”

“Me too,” she replied—mechanically, because that was easy to say, unlike everything else she was supposed to, like that what they’d done was a mistake.

They sat in silence after that; she knew they would. Zuko passed her some tea and she held it tight between her hands, curled up with her knees in front of her chest. 

She could tell Zuko was shooting glances at her, while she kept her eyes trained ahead. He would fold first—not that he couldn’t sit in companionable silence, they did it all the time, but because he probably thought he did something wrong and couldn’t stand for it go unaddressed.

“Katara, do you regret what happened yesterday?” he asked. 

_Yes_. _No_. _Maybe_.

She took a few small sips of her tea since the cup was so close to her lips. It was hot and burned her throat, but it was jasmine, her favorite.

“I like you a lot,” she finally whispered after she’d swallowed. 

Zuko hesitated a moment, but scooted closer to her. She tensed—her hold on her self-control was already so tenuous, but he didn’t touch her.

“Please don’t be upset,” he said. 

She pursed her lips tight, but knew her outrage was impossible to contain. “How can I not be upset?” she asked exasperatedly.

He looked miserable—she _hated it_ —brow deeply furrowed. “Katara-,”

She put her tea down and turned to him, straightening her legs slightly. “It’s so _easy_ for you,” she began angrily. “We can do this a-and if it doesn’t work you’re still _Fire Lord_ and _I’m_ the one who has to pack up and leave after all work I’ve done-,”

“That’s not true,” he protested. “I would never ask you to leave-,”

Katara scoffed and looked back at the fire. “Oh so you just want your ex-girlfriend sitting around on your council?”

“I’m sure we could find a way to work together,” he insisted.

“I have done this before,” she began acridly. “It didn’t work with Aang, it wouldn’t work with you.” 

“It doesn’t—we don’t have to-,” He stopped his stammering and rested his head in his hand. “We aren’t even together, and you want to talk about it _ending_?” 

“That’s the logical conclusion of this, isn’t it?” she began with a critical look. “We certainly can’t be _public_ about that kind of relationship and—and I know exactly what the Fire Sages want.”

For some reason her own words made her stomach twist into knots—hearing it out loud, that Zuko would marry someone else, how much she despised that thought even now.

He seemed bothered by it too, a sigh leaving him. “I don’t care about any of that.”

Valiant and earnest, as usual, but it only made her frown bitterly. “Oh you say that now, with your-,” She gestured vaguely to him. “Hormones raging, but—but even if its _years_ from now, you won’t—you _can’t_ …choose me in the end.”

Spirits, she was such a wet blanket; Toph would tease her relentlessly if she were here. That she couldn’t make out with a boy without being hopelessly existential about it.

Zuko was upset, obviously, frowning slightly, brow arched low over his eye. He’d sat so she was not facing his scar, probably on purpose, which made her heart ache, and just forced her to stare at his _stupidly_ handsome profile.

He didn’t speak for a while, and his eyes dropped to his hands as they laid limp in his lap.

“I love you, Katara,” he finally said, as if it were a sigh, as if he felt doomed. 

She tried not to let that shock her; she loved him back, that much was clear, but still her chin started trembling, throat tight.

“You haven’t been listening if you think this won’t work because you don’t love me enough,” she said, quietly, so he couldn’t hear her voice waiver. 

She doubted that was the answer he wanted—his frown deepened and he absently coaxed the flames in front of them higher as they flickered from a cold gust of air through the window. He cut a look at her after a few moments, not facing her completely. 

“You are the most _obnoxious_ woman, do you know that?” 

Her sadness evaporated and she straightened. “Excuse me?” she began incredulously. 

He flushed red, but persisted. “You’ve completely foreclosed the possibility of a—a relationship-,”

“For good reason! Because of Aang, because you’re the _Fire Lord_ -,”

“Because you don’t get it, Katara!” he snapped. “A-And so I either have to let you go or sound like an absolute _insane person_ -,”

“What are you talking about?” she demanded.

“I’ll marry you,” he said— _declared_. “Tomorrow. In—in an hour. In forty years. Whatever you want, I will do.”

He may as well have just ripped out her consciousness because she could only manage to stare blankly at the fire in response, trying to keep her jaw from unhinging. She was rarely at a loss for words, but such _ridiculous_ proclamations were—making it hard to focus. 

Her head fell into her hand and she squeezed the bridge of her nose. Other than _what the fuck, Zuko_ , she didn’t know what to say.

“You don’t mean that,” she eventually muttered. 

“I do,” he said simply. “I’m a fool for it, probably, but I do.” 

Katara dropped her hand and her eyes snapped over to him. “The Fire Sages-,”

“Want an heir. We wait long enough, they’ll be begging me to marry you,” he said, then waved his hand. “And barring that, Shyu will support me and I can replace anyone who won’t. They’re all ancient.”

Spirits, he had _thought_ about this, and she felt like her heart was made of cement and would drop through the floor.

“They’re not the only ones you have to worry about.”

“I’ve heard the _ice lady_ is plenty popular,” he said with a shrug.

She blushed at that, and then a heavy sigh slanted her shoulders. “I-I don’t know what to say, Zuko.” 

He looked dejected and shook his head. “You see what I mean, don’t you? What kind of idiot says-,” He ran his hand through his hair. “-says _that_ after—when we’ve…”

“Is that how you really feel?” she asked—but she knew it was. He was a terrible liar.

Zuko flopped back against the front of the couch with his legs outstretched. It reminded her of when they used to sit by the fire at night during the war, his strong features cast in shadow, except when he’d flash her his white smile and she would wish he’d do it more often.

“I’m all in, Katara. That’s all I meant to say.” 

“Well then you don’t sound like an insane person,” she murmured, eyes downcast. She honestly didn’t know if it was better to get this assurance from him. She’d wanted to cut things off early to avoid them being in love and apart and utterly miserable but apparently Zuko was too far gone. 

“I can’t lose you,” he said, and his hand hesitantly rested on her knee. “I don’t want to be with anyone else, ever, except you.”

 _Me too_ , she thought, except it wasn’t that calm, more like her brain was screaming it at her repeatedly like an over-excited child, and she really wanted to throw herself into his chest and kiss him.

She couldn’t, though. Just like she wanted certainly from him, he deserved certainty from her.

“That’s not all it is,” she admitted. 

“I-I know,” he said. “I’m not trying to tie you down. It’s selfish, and so much to ask after everything the Fire Nation—my family put you through.”

He was not his father, or his grandfather, Katara wished he understood that. But he was right it was a lot to ask of anyone, maybe especially her, and she felt bad for him—being Fire Lord was burden enough as a job, but it consumed his life even outside that, putting so many conditions and expectations on finding a partner, building a family. 

She clenched her fist nervously in her lap. “I’m sorry. I know Mai said this to you too, for different reasons maybe, but I just don’t know if I—if I can…”

Her words got trapped in her throat, so thorny and terrifying she felt like she couldn’t breathe—how could these thoughts she turned over and over in her mind still tear her emotions asunder?

She’d been in the Fire Nation a year, quite satisfied to chase her ambitions and make inroads here and everywhere else. She liked Zuko, of course, had been happy to tip-toe perilously on the line between friend and—well, much more than friends.

But _now what_? They were supposed to do this for real? Because there was no _try_ , trying and failing would make her position on the council impossible to maintain, hurt Aang unnecessarily and completely fracture their group. Zuko was—or at least _said_ he felt strongly enough to merit the risk, but did he even understand what he was saying? That she could be Fire Lady, have children with him who would be _heirs_ to the Fire Nation?

She was spiraling again. Maybe worst of all is that she didn’t hate the thought, not at all. Was so madly in love with him and so invested in what she was doing here, what she _could_ do that it seemed…perfect.

If she was Mai, maybe, the picturesque Fire Nation noble. But she wasn’t. Katara was _Water Tribe_. Proudly. Fire Lady Katara of the Southern Water Tribe sounded like an oxymoron at best, a slap in the face to her cherished home at worst. Could her tribe ever accept her or forgive her if she was the leader of a nation that brought so much destruction to their shores? 

Tears pricked the back of her eyes, but her confusion and desperation swelled and they soon rolled down her cheeks. She went to furtively wipe them away, but Zuko saw them glistening in the light from the fire.

She heard him make a strangled sound and scoot closer. “Please, _please_ don’t cry,” he begged, and he put an arm around her. He was warm, of course, and she collapsed backwards into his chest to hide her face. 

Zuko gently stroked her hair with his free hand. “Oh Katara,” he murmured. 

She sniffled before speaking. “I’m sorry-,”

“Don’t be sorry,” he said. “This is not something to feel bad about.” 

Katara exhaled heavily—she felt awful, despite his words, and curled her legs up to lean more comfortably against him. His back was still propped against the couch behind them and he wrapped his arms tight around her. 

“I started it,” she muttered.

“No, I did,” he said. “And I’m the one who should be sorry. I never should have—I don’t expect anything, at all. I know who I am and what it means-,” He shook his head. “It’s enough that you’ve been in the Fire Nation at all the past year helping me.”

She lifted her head, too close, nose brushing his. “I like it here. And you.”

He looked like he was trying to suppress a smile and turned his head away. “I didn’t mean to be—um, dramatic-,”

“You are literally _so_ dramatic, Zuko-,”

He glared at her and gave her waist a playful squeeze—she was embarrassingly ticklish so a giggle escape her, which she muffled in his shoulder. She hated how easy it was to feel better around him, if she forgot everything else, how easy it was to talk to him, how perfect it felt if the world just didn't exist outside of this room. 

“Proclamations aside, I’m trying to say that I—I just want you to be happy,” he said. “And that I’ll do whatever makes you happy.” 

Those were big promises—whatever he said about her reputation or what he could strong arm the Fire Sages into doing, it wasn’t the easy course. And couldn’t answer the question of if the Fire Nation was the place she wanted to build her life. 

“Thank you, Zuko,” she said. “I don’t—have an answer for you, but I appreciate your honesty.”

“Mortifying as it was,” he muttered, then he froze. “Not that it wasn’t a good kiss-,”

Katara shifted—her arm was falling asleep trapped against his chest—and grinned. “How long exactly have you been just dying to marry me, Zuko?”

He sucked in a mortified breath before he began sputtering in protest. “I’m not—I wasn’t saying I _wanted_ to, you know, _now_ —I just can, I mean _would_ , someday, if you-,” He stopped himself, for once, and narrowed his eyes. “You’re teasing me.”

“I’m frankly stunned you haven’t caught on before now,” she replied, then she lifted her chin to meet his gaze. “Though I _am_ curious how long you really have-,”

His eyes softened. “Longer than I should admit, Katara.”

She blushed up to her ears—Zuko was not charming or coherently sentimental _nearly_ enough for her to handle the rare times when he was. Though even if not particularly suave, he was so earnest and steadfast in his affections that she doubted she ever stood a chance. To avoid further embarrassment, she said nothing and pressed her lips to his cheek. He’d turned slightly so it was more on the corner of his mouth, which set her pulse hammering in her throat.

Really they were so close, just a little scoot would bring their lips together. She had slotted herself between his legs, one of his knees bent so she could curl up to his chest. His grip was looser than when she’d been crying into his tunic, one arm around her waist and the other rested on her thigh. She brought this _entirely_ on herself, of course, as if this was the type of situation where she could casually untangle herself and _not_ kiss him. Spirits, she may as well have just taken off her clothes.

She cleared her throat, face still flushed. “I meant to think more before, um…”

“We don’t have to do anything,” he said. 

“Right,” she replied, and she absently ran her finger over the collar of his tunic. The cords of muscle in his neck tightened, and she really should stop, but didn't. “But that’s very disappointing.”

He was watching her, completely still.

“It is,” he said carefully.

She bit her lip and met his gaze, the intensity of which threatened to stop her heart. “You don’t want to disappoint me, do you?”

He reached up and gently tucked her hair behind her ear. His hand lingered, thumb brushing her cheek. “I don’t ever want to disappoint you again, Katara.”

Her brow arched in— _again_ , he said. _Again_. She was trying to be teasing and coy and he had to take it to _that place_ as if he still thought all the time about trying to be better or that somehow he didn’t deserve her. Soft, serious _asshole_. Spirits, she loved him. This would be easier if she didn’t _love him_. 

“Would it be so bad if we kissed?” she asked in a whisper.

“I don’t think so,” he said, pushing his fingers back into her hair, his palm flat against her cheek. He was so warm, it radiated off him, of course, firebender that he was. She wondered if that was her problem, the irony of being from the Southern Water Tribe and learning from the youngest _possible_ age that to survive in their perilous winter you had to find warmth, and maybe she was still doing that when she sought refuge in his embrace. 

She pitched forward, molding her lips over his. He responded immediately, leaning into her, fingers tightening in her scalp. She’d been a little—frantic the first time, him too, clutching and grabbing at each other and pouring months (possibly years) of pent up frustration into their kiss.

This was slower, deliberate, still a _mistake_ , but he moved his hand from the nape of her neck to skim his fingers along her thigh, to hitch her closer to him, and she decided she couldn’t care less if it was a bad idea. He made a soft groan in his throat when she ran her tongue along his lower lip, which was perfect and adorable and she wrapped her arms around his neck to press into him more.

She kissed him for longer, deeply, over and over. For some reason before all this, she thought she’d feel weird about being with him—this was _Zuko_ , for spirit’s sake, the best friend of all her _other_ friends, the Fire Lord, but it was the easiest thing in the world after all this time. 

Katara shifted against him after a few moments. She wanted to be closer, but being closer to him meant pressing her hip into the space between his legs, uncovering evidence that he was very _clearly_ enjoying himself and that he _wanted her_ , which was so enthralling of a thought she gave a breathy sigh into his mouth—his grip on her tightened abruptly, she could feel his fingernails in the fabric of her tights, and he broke from her, his jagged breath warming her cheek. 

“Sorry,” he whispered hoarsely, looking at her with those perfect golden eyes that only melted her resolve further. 

Her mouth was still open slightly, and she snapped it shut. She did not want to embarrass him, he’d take it _entirely_ the wrong way if she clamored to stand, thinking she was offended, when really she was telling herself that she was not, not, _not_ going to take off her clothes and fuck Zuko right now. She really, _really_ wanted to, so a fifteen to one hundred foot buffer between them was probably necessary since her self-control was lacking as of late. 

Katara swallowed and looked down. If she didn't change the subject, she was going to let herself fall into something she really might regret.

“I’m, um, going to the Earth Kingdom,” she said, after she caught her breath.

He had been very tense, but seemed to relax slightly once she spoke, perhaps because he was confused.

“I-I recall,” he replied.

“I think—I should just do my job here, while I’m over there, too, until I-,” She stopped and cleared her throat, suddenly lost for words. “I just don’t know,” she finished quietly. 

His grip loosened further. “I understand.”

She couldn’t meet his gaze and looked down at her lap. “It’s not fair to either of us, if I can’t….”

He rested his forehead against the side of her temple. “Take as long as you need.”

“You don’t mean that,” she whispered.

“No,” he admitted. “But I’m trying be chivalrous.”

She couldn’t hide her smile. “Honorable, even, you could say.”

“You’re the worst.”

Katara beamed broadly at that, which only made him scoff and roll his eyes at her. She placed her palm on the ground in the growing space between them and pushed herself back, if only for the sake of not continuing on a course that would put her in an even more compromising situation where her self-control would continue to fail her. He straightened slightly against the couch but otherwise didn’t follow her as she stood, rubbing his neck and then sliding his hand across to his face.

“If you have more questions-,”

“I’ll let you know,” she said hastily, then faltered as guilt lanced through her. “I’m not—I’m really not looking for all the answers right now, I just-,”

“Katara, I get it.”

She kept rambling despite his assurances, which probably did her no favors. “I could never do that to you—do _this_ and then—then…” _Break your heart and watch you give it to someone else who actually does want to marry you._

Katara clasped her hands and looked down at her feet, rather than say that, but he seemed to understand anyway and just gave a faint nod as he looked at the fire.

Spirits, she _knew_ this all-too-familiar feeling of dread that was churning in her gut—it was Aang, it was everyone, it was her taking responsibility for the emotions of others, wanting to care for them above all else, no matter how she felt.

“I’m so sorry,” she choked out.

He shifted to face her, but didn’t stand. “Don’t do that with me, Katara. Really.”

She almost said _I’m sorry_ again, but bit her lip to stop it. She wrung her fingers together a few times as they hung clasped in front of her, before she gave a shaky sigh.

“Force of habit, I guess.”

“I don’t need to be taken care of,” he said. “That’s not what I want.”

Katara soothed her hair back. “I know.” 

He wasn’t happy. _Of course_ he wasn’t happy. He stared at the fire, eyes searching as if it had answers.

“Goodnight, Katara,” he said, and she was relieved at the finality of it because she was too weak to leave him like this, even though she should.

“Night, Zuko,” she replied, and nothing else—he was right that she couldn’t apologize again for not giving him what he wanted just because she cared about him. Her own emotions didn’t put her at fault for anything.

So she hurried out of the room and shut the door behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really don’t consider this angst because I promise Katara is going to want to be Fire Lady in the end, so in case there’s any concern just wanted to offer that reassurance. ;)
> 
> This question of making their relationship work given their background and current occupations has been super interesting to me, and while I do think these two could have had this conversation later, I don’t know if at this stage in her life Katara would really be able to just casually date the Fire Lord and “see how it goes,” considering the complications it could cause, particularly because she already dated Aang for the sake of it and the fallout definitely left her a little nervous to date her other best friend. Obviously just one dumb author’s take, but I acknowledge this is all exceptionally serious for the beginning of a relationship, but that’s also why the burn was 85000 words because Zuko is well past having a little crush on her and is a full-blown lovesick idiot.


	21. Chapter 21

For all Katara’s attempts to save her and Zuko from any awkwardness or excessive heartbreak, their interactions were—stilted at best before she left for the Earth Kingdom. She knew how she _wanted_ to act around him, what she wanted to do to him if she was ever stupid enough to let herself be alone with him, but all that was exactly the complication she had insisted on avoiding. Half-heartedly insisted, maybe, since she’d happily sat in his lap and stuck her tongue down his throat, which in hindsight probably wasn’t the best idea (in one sense, anyway).

Katara's guilt for all this was powerful, nagging, but she at least got to partially ignore it—not just because it was a vast and terrifying and difficult decision, but also because it was far more important that she be prepared to nail her appearance in the Earth Kingdom. For her to be given a chance there and squander it would be unthinkable, certainly if the reason was because she was too busy hand-wringing over some _boy_. Even if it was the Fire Lord.

Her eminent departure let her put all her personal problems aside, so much so that on her last day she realized she and Zuko hadn’t even had a proper goodbye (whatever that was supposed to be). She was scheduled to set off with Dai via airship in the afternoon and arrived to her office early to pour over the myriad of reports about the progress in Yu Dao before she left, trying to cram her brain with as much data as she could. She’d hardly made a dent in her stack for the day when there was a sharp rap at her door—confident, so it wasn’t Zuko, because lately he knocked like he didn’t even want her to hear. 

It was Ming, standing with a thin frown and a rather large bag in her hands that she dropped at the threshold of her office. Katara’s only other female colleague was somewhere in the mid-range of rank and age on the council—she was the only child of the War Minister under Azulon’s reign, pressed into politics at a young age and distinguishing herself because of her sharp tongue, tenacity and deep coffers. She was tall and slender, with gray streaked hair that she dyed black and was never without a deep red rouge on her lips.

Katara was sure she looked slightly standoffish—Ming had never made a particular effort to interact with her, so she thought there must be something wrong. “Um, hello?”

“I assume you are prepared for your upcoming sojourn to the Earth Kingdom,” Ming said, standing with her hands clasped in her elegant robes and never one for pleasantries.

Katara just nodded, brow still furrowed.

“Well,” she began impatiently, then gestured around the room. “Where are your things?”

Katara pivoted to the corner and gestured to her bag slumped there—she’d haphazardly packed it the night before from the pile in her room that served as her dresser. “You mean what I’m bring-,”

Ming interrupted her with a disgusted sound. “See, I _knew_ ,” she said exasperatedly. “I knew you would do that.”

“Do what?” Katara asked incredulously.

Ming shook her head and stalked to the bag without further preamble.

“That idiot boy-,”

Katara turned on her heel to watch her. “I’m sorry, is Zuko the _idiot boy_ in this situation?”

Ming stopped and whirled around, maybe alarmed, but upon seeing Katara grinning, just huffed.

“Well he _is_ ,” she said. “Just don’t repeat that.”

“What’s wrong with what I packed?” Katara asked.

Ming pried open the bag and began throwing things out one by one. “Blue,” she said, a dress flying over her shoulder. “Blue.” Another tunic. “Blue.” A pair of pants. “ _Blue_!”

“They’re the only clothes I own,” Katara replied defensively. 

Ming had reached the bottom of the bag. “And no jewelry to be found _of course_ -,”

She put her hands on her hips. “This trip was all on very short notice, you know.”

Ming just gave a haughty _hmph_ and marched over to her own bag. She unfastened the top and unceremoniously dropped it on the desk beside them.

“None of the men think of these things, you know,” she said. “If our dear Fire Lord was going to insist that _you_ be an envoy to the Earth Kingdom, he could at _least_ find you something proper to wear.” Ming yanked some red silks from her bag. “Hence, an _idiot boy_.”

“We have been dealing with a natural disaster, in case you forgot,” Katara replied pointedly, though perhaps she shouldn’t have acted so offended on his behalf. “And he’s hardly a boy.” 

Ming shoved the handfuls of fabric into her chest. “Try this on.”

“I don’t wear red,” Katara protested immediately, trying to keep her mouth from twisting into a frown at the mere thought.

Ming scoffed. “So you propose to parade through the court in the Earth Kingdom _representing_ the Fire Nation-,” She gestured with distaste to her dress. “In that?”

Katara looked down—no, her clothes were not made of fine silks, and her dress was frayed in a few places, but she wasn’t a total vagabond. “I was going to get the wrinkles out.”

She shook her head. “No matter what you wear, no one is _ever_ going to let you forget that you’re the Water Tribe girl.”

“Maybe I don’t want to forget,” Katara replied.

Ming scowled. “Do you have to be such a stubborn child about-,”

“I am _not_ -,”

“Being in charge requires _compromise_ , Katara,” she interjected, tone harshened. “You’re not the Avatar. You’re not the Avatar’s girlfriend. You’re certainly not the Fire Lord. A waterbender has _no place_ in negotiations between the Earth Kingdom and the Fire Nation.” She shoved the dress into her chest again. “Wear red _for a day_ and—just remember who you are on the inside if you want to be stupid and sentimental about it.”

Ming made a salient point—annoyingly—which of course had crossed her mind before. Zuko would never ask her to do it, not with everything that had happened, but it certainly wasn’t a terrible idea.

Regardless of how much thought their Fire Lord had given the matter, this trip was a big deal. He had good reason to send her in his stead, but he’d made abundantly clear that she and Dai were not mere note-takers to this meeting—their decisions would be respected by him and the rest of the Fire Nation, which was thrilling but also maybe not the best time for her to be dressed entirely in blue.

It’s not as if she hadn’t done it before, when it was important, during the war—in the Earth Kingdom, the Fire Nation. She wondered what difference it made now. Was she surrendering her identity entirely if she wore anything other than what she always had? Is that all it meant to be water tribe, what color she wore? 

Katara shifted uncomfortably, unable to meet Ming’s penetrating gaze. “It’s just—I’m not from the Fire Nation,” she finally said. 

Ming shrugged and moved to pack up the dress. “You’re right,” she said briskly. “Clearly you don’t want this opportunity, and it’s more important for you to do nothing and wear blue while doing it, so just go ahead and run back along to wherever it is you came from. Don’t forget to pack a coat.”

Katara resented that Ming’s tone took on a blush of condescension, as if there was some obvious answer to all this that Katara was simply ignoring. She was not some overly sentimental child. These things were important to her, and her ambition was not so unbridled that she only cared about the power she accumulated. She could do _plenty_ of good dressed in blue, and she had, as ambassador, certainly, and she didn’t _need_ to do this to reach her goals. It just—might help.

There were arguably deeper implications to all this that she was letting bleed into her discomfort about one stupid piece of clothing. It was the tension in all her choices, stirred guilt to a fever pitch. Just how _Fire Nation_ was she willing to be to get what she wanted, whether it was Zuko or—something else? Was it okay to care more about wanting to help people, change the world, however she could, than where she lived and the color of a single dress? Was she fooling herself to think she could do both?

Maybe it made her a bad person to _want_ the reach and the resources of a Fire Lady—to see the benefit to the type of power that could change things for people who needed her. Aang and Zuko certainly felt zero qualms about being given greater ability by birthright.

Katara sharply raised her hand to stop Ming from stepping back further. “Wait,” she said. “Just—wait.”

Ming complied but said nothing, delicate brow raised. Katara was grinding her teeth and forced herself to stop, though her eyes narrowed. “I will take the stupid dress, alright?”

Ming looked insufferably smug and offered it back to her. Katara had been acquainted with several different shades of red since coming to the Fire Nation and this one was a deep scarlet—lots of dye, and expensive, with the traditional long draped sleeves.

“You can sew, can’t you?” Ming asked. “The hem may need to be shortened.”

“I can,” Katara replied, and then ran her finger along the fine edge. “Perhaps if I have time on the airship I could incorporate some blue.”

Ming rolled her eyes. “If you must.”

She made an exasperated sound and looked up. “You know, you could consider my position at least a little. What if I was asking you to wear—I don’t know, Earth Kingdom green?”

“In exchange for deciding the fate of the entirely new system of government emerging in the colonies?” she said. “I’d _paint_ myself green.” 

Katara raised the dress slightly in her hands. “This is not a condition of me being able to do that,” she said. “Zu—Fire Lord Zuko didn’t tell me what to wear.”

Ming snorted. “Yes, well, I actually want you to _succeed_ over there, so you should wear the color of the nation you’re representing.”

Katara faltered—it was a bizarre thought, wasn’t it? Her representing a country she wasn’t even from, even if just for the sake of diplomacy. Dread that had been lying in wait flared in her gut—maybe this was _all_ insane. To think she could be anything at all important in the Fire Nation, councilwoman or Zuko’s partner. Maybe he was wrong to insist she could be Fire Lady; his judgment was arguably being clouded by his feelings. That’s certainly what the Fire Sages would argue when Zuko broke the news that someday he wanted to marry a woman from the Southern Water Tribe. Ming might say it too, given her sometimes alarming lack of sentiment, if she knew that Katara was vacillating about more than just what she wanted to wear. 

Katara rubbed her brow and sighed. “I don’t understand—why are you helping me?”

“It’s in our best interest for you to not embarrass the Fire Nation,” Ming replied with a threatening look. 

“That’s not true,” she said. “You should want me personally to screw up, that's more ammunition for you.”

Ming just cleared her throat and looked away.

“Well?” Katara prompted, trying not to sound impatient.

She made an annoyed sound, as if the truth was so terrible, before glaring at her. “This is hardly your business, but as of late I have been trying to—to re-connect with my daughter, who has a stupid bleeding heart like yours. I cannot imagine _where_ she inherited it, certainly not from me or my father but-,” Ming sharply waved her hand. “She has entreated me to help you, talk to you—she saw you in the palace during the storm and styles herself as some sort of idiotic, sycophantic _fan_ of yours.”

Katara’s brow arched in—she wasn’t even aware that Ming had children, though maybe that’s why her relationship with them was strained. “That’s very…flattering.”

“I wish I had raised her better, but there’s no point now,” she replied gruffly, then turned back to her bag. “And before you get all soppy about it, let’s just get this over with. I packed some bracelets, earrings—you need to wear them, it’s a sign of _status_.”

“I can’t accept those,” Katara said, raising both hands.

“They’re not a gift,” Ming replied incredulously. “With the way you cajole Fire Lord Zuko into raising taxes, I can’t afford to shower you in gold. Just bring them to me when you’re back.”

Katara ignored the jab, eyes widening slightly instead. This wasn't generosity, per se, since Ming was planning to report all this to her daughter to get in her good graces, but the fact that she was willing to help implied at least a begrudging respect.

“Well—thank you, I guess.”

“Don’t mention it.” Ming stepped back. “Literally,” she added sourly. 

Katara gave a small smile. “You know, I’d be happy to meet your daughter sometime. We could have lunch or-,”

“Oh so you can put more ideas in her head about being—grossly sentimental and _weak_?”

“Such high praise,” Katara replied with her brow quirked.

Ming gave a small huff, clearly relenting, which was a little touching since she was obviously doing it because it’s something her daughter wanted. “I—I’m sure she would be elated to meet you. But you are being too kind, and I knew there was something wrong with you.” 

“I think you secretly appreciate the unique perspective I bring to the council,” Katara replied brightly.

“At least you’re another woman,” she remarked, though her lips were still pursed tight.

Katara took that as a compliment, even though it wasn’t necessarily a fact that she could control. Ming was clearly not interested in standing around and exchanging further praise or delving more into her personal life because she retreated a few steps and folded her hands back into her sleeves.

“Take your bags and get going,” she said. “I would hate for you to miss your ship.”

It was not beyond the realm of possibility that Dai would leave without her, so Katara merely nodded in assent as Ming turned on her heel and marched out the door.

====

Zuko had meant for it to be a proper goodbye. Katara wasn’t going to be in the Earth Kingdom for long, but this trip was important, everything _else_ was a mess, so he’d decided to find her, _alone_ , and affirm they were still on the same page—or maybe he was just pathetic and wanted reassurance that when she left, she was actually going to come back, even if she never laid another finger on him.

In truth that thought tore him to pieces most times—that he’d had her, only to lose her entirely. He should have kissed her longer, harder, if she wasn’t ever going to again because it was too _complicated_.

She was right, of course, it was a ridiculous morass of risk, as if he could casually date a member of his council or an ambassador without there being an uproar from everyone else, completely separate from the fact that there were _certain people_ that he as the Fire Lord was expected to marry (and it wasn't her).

But surely a short rendezvous couldn’t be _bad_. He knew she’d be in her office before she left in the afternoon. He could drop by and shut the door and they could talk, or he could pin her to the wall and kiss her and—no, _no_ , not _that_. Definitely not that.

He wanted to say—well, he didn’t know what he wanted to say to her. _I want you to be happy, Katara, but can’t you please be happy with me_? _Can’t we try? Don’t you know I couldn’t love you more if I tried?_

Those were absolutely unacceptable things to admit, for both their sakes. He was better off pining uselessly, except with the fun twist of _remembering_ the feeling of her mouth pressed to his instead of just _imagining_ it. 

Perhaps he was torturing himself so much with these feelings because he knew the real thing would never happen again. There was no chance that with any concerted _thought_ Katara would choose him. Perhaps their physical chemistry could justify frantic, fleeting moments of something more, but he was a terrible choice on paper. Ruling a nation that once preyed on her home, not to mention that he, _specifically_ and quite doggedly had terrorized her and the people she cared about, and now had a job that would force more public scrutiny on her than she really cared for.

He hadn’t expected to be quite so inconsolable after Katara’s less-than-enthusiastic reaction to the prospect of a real relationship. At the time, he was more than happy to give her space to decide what she wanted—he had no illusions about kissing her and then being able to show her off as his girlfriend the next day. It wouldn’t be fair to Katara after how hard she worked here, and though he hated it, he couldn’t control the narrative of their relationship. But they both should have known he was going to be _relentlessly negative_ about it, as he was want to do about pretty much everything, and certainly in regards to whether he was redeemed enough to end up with Katara, of all people. 

Zuko was so caught up in his own thoughts, he didn’t notice that one of his agricultural ministers was droning on, then _over_ the allotted time, and once he looked up and realized what time it was, it was far too late, and he was dismissing the group as politely and quickly as possible and hurrying to the front of the palace at a pace that couldn’t look too alarming.

Katara was there, as he expected, two bags slung across her shoulders, with Dai—he’d never been so displeased to see the man in his life. She had apparently just walked up as well because when he was within earshot, Dai spoke to her.

“You’re late,” Dai remarked acridly.

“I was talking with Ming,” Katara said, then gave a small smirk. “I’m surprised you didn’t leave without me.”

Dai had noticed Zuko and turned to him rather than respond to Katara’s playful jab.

“My Lord,” he said.

Zuko gave a nod in acknowledgement, but Katara didn’t rush to call him by his title and merely smiled, which naturally stopped his heart. “I hope you both have a safe journey,” he said. “I look forward to receiving your reports.”

“I’ll say hello to Aang for you,” Katara replied—she was so good at being bright and polite and calm. It was unnerving to see so little on her face, when he felt as if everyone could see right through him.

“Thank you,” he said. _Also, I love you._

Before he could actually say that and embarrass himself, a palanquin was carried over to them, and Katara crinkled her nose.

“You can’t be serious,” she said.

Dai gave a dismissive wave of his hand. “This is tradition, and I am an old man. I can’t be expected to make it all the way to the harbor.”

“Yes, spirits forbid the nobility _walk_ anywhere,” Katara replied dryly. 

The curtain of the palanquin was drawn back for Dai after it was set in front of him. “Endearingly obtuse, as usual, Master Katara.”

Zuko doubted that if the two of them were alone Dai would have used the word _endearing_ , though the two of them seemed less antagonistic than before. 

Katara just gave a snort in reply, and Dai packed himself into the palanquin before the curtain was drawn around him, his straight-backed silhouette visible as the sun shone down on them.

He was carried away, and Katara hoisted her bag higher on her shoulder when they were alone. “I should keep pace with him, I really think he _would_ leave without me.”

His throat was suddenly scratchy, dry, his will to speak using his professional facade sapped from him. “I meant to come sooner. To talk.”

“I’ll be back before you know it,” she said with a small smile.

 _Not soon enough_.

“Katara, I-,”

He stopped when she put her palm flat again his chest—he couldn’t feel it through his robes, but still his heart stuttered in his chest. He instinctively reached up to clasp her hand, but stopped himself, flexing his fingers into a fist at his side instead.

“I should go, Zuko,” she said, and then her hand was gone just as quickly as she craned her neck around to keep an eye on Dai’s palanquin.

He was kicking himself for being late, but there was nothing that could be done about it now, and he extinguished the desperate thought that _she_ hadn’t tried to find him because maybe she didn’t _want_ to.

“Goodbye, Katara,” he said. “Be safe.” 

“Bye for now, Zuko,” she replied, and with a wave she broke into a jog down the road towards the harbor.

He was a fool for it, but he’d never missed her more. 

====

The airship had been set gently on the sloping cliff by the Royal Plaza, awaiting their arrival. A more formal station for docking these behemoths was in the works, but seeing as they were a relatively new innovation and the harbor was in need of repair, more formal infrastructure was a long way off.

Katara was shuffling a good distance behind the palanquin as it bobbed along the Royal Plaza, hauling both her bags on her shoulder and thinking just for a second it _might_ have been nice to not carry all this herself before she dashed that urge immediately. 

With no other thoughts, she defaulted to Zuko, embarrassingly. He had looked dismayed to see her leave, not in front of Dai, but after, when she absolutely had to go, because she couldn’t be late but also she wasn’t sure what she would say to him, or what he wanted. She knew he’d never pressure her—in fact, he’d probably tell her to forget it and that she was better off without him, but she didn’t want that because she’d comfort him and then _really_ comfort him and then be very, very late for her airship if her self-control didn’t make a strong enough resurgence. She rubbed her brow—some sweat had accumulated as she walked—and decided this was all well and entirely a disaster. 

She heard a voice behind her in the shuffle of people in the plaza.

“Ice lady! Hey, ice lady!”

She stopped and turned. A boy was hurrying over to her, holding a bucket. He skidded to a stop in front of her and lifted it over his head, water sloshing onto his dark hair. Katara gave him an amused look as he caught his breath.

“Could you please—you know, do the ice thing?” he asked. 

Her mouth split into a smile and the water bent to ice with a simple flick of her wrist—she had not gotten this type of request in a while given the weather, but it would soon be warm since winter was a fleeting few weeks on the island.

The boy thanked her profusely and then darted away, while she hurried to catch up to Dai, climbing a steep path up past the plaza to where their airship was waiting. Dai was disembarking from his palanquin when she stopped in front of him.

He soothed down his robe and straightened, his expression stoic. “That—bending is not how the elite of the Fire Nation conduct themselves.”

Katara considered telling him to mind his own business, she was frankly surprised he was watching her, but instead she crossed her arms. 

“Are you referring to me being kind to that boy? Smiling and helping him?” she began, then raised an eyebrow. “I’m well aware you’re not a fan.” 

Dai gave her a pointed look and together they set off onto the metal gangplank that connected to the airship. She deposited one of her bags with Dai’s after thanking the men loading their luggage, but kept Ming’s bag with her so she could start fixing up her dress.

They both stopped at the narrow balcony surrounding the main part of the airship. Down below on the plaza level, the regular crowds of people were concentrated on the wall nearest them—curious onlookers wondering what important person was being allowed to use the Fire Nation airship. She realized with some— _weirdness_ that she was the important person.

She spotted a few people waving as was the custom when ships left the harbor, and she waved back, like any sane person would, but of course Dai scoffed beside her.

Katara dropped her hand and glared at him. “What now?”

“Nothing,” he remarked airily. “Just fit to be Fire Lady already.” 

“Oh very funny, Dai,” she deadpanned with a frown. “I didn’t take you for one to engage in idle gossip.”

He gave a small shrug. “You know you’d _rule_ them if you were—those advisors whose words you find so detestable.”

Katara faced the railing again and crossed her arms. “Why am I not surprised you’re suggesting I marry Zuko for political expedience?” she muttered. 

“Because it’s a good idea.”

It was _not_ a good idea for the reason Dai thought. As if she would ever marry anyone for anything other than love when she’d already spent ten months in a relationship doing exactly that—one built on duty and guilt.

“There’s more to life than money and power,” Katara replied, then gave him a skeptical look. “I’m sure some of your colleagues would think it treason to suggest the Fire Lord marry outside the Fire Nation anyway.”

“Marrying within the Fire Nation is not so easy,” he said. “Don’t forget our history, we are a country of warlords and those divisions linger even now.”

Katara pursed her lips tight. She didn’t know what game Dai was playing, but she was not interested. “I’ll leave the jockeying for his bride to our colleagues.”

“It’s your job to give a recommendation.”

“Not my purview,” Katara replied simply.

Dai had his hands in his sleeves, shoulders rigid, while her fingers wrapped around the metal railing and she leaned forward—still, she could feel his gaze on her back.

“You don’t get to decide your purview,” he said. 

Katara drummed her fingers impatiently—she would have _really_ preferred to have the Fire Lady conversation with her brother, Suki, Toph. Even _Aang_. Not some penny-pinching old man she was only beginning to tolerate.

“You want my advice?” she began, throwing a look over her shoulder. “I don’t _care_ who he marries, but if he does, he should probably pick someone he actually, you know, likes.”

“Water Tribe nonsense,” Dai muttered. “And disingenuous.”

“Disingenuous?” she repeated incredulously, dropping her arms and facing him.

Dai met her gaze, confident, unflustered, the exact opposite of what she felt in that moment. “If he marries for something as ridiculous as _love_ , he’ll pick you.”

It took all her willpower not to flinch, which she knew Dai wanted. Was he just trying to goad her? Was she that transparent? Had he merely guessed what he _thought_ was the inevitable and was trying to put himself in a Fire Lady’s good graces?

Too many questions, _irrelevant_ answers. 

Katara's muscles were clenched tight, her jaw, as if that would somehow trap the truth, and she narrowed her eyes at him. 

“Don’t mistake me for a giggling school girl who wants to talk about boys,” she said in a low voice.

He smirked. “Good answer.” 

She couldn’t care less what he thought was a _good answer_ , as if she were playing some sort of game with her personal life. She wasn’t, it was none of their business, but spirits, Dai was going to be so _fucking_ smug if she ever did actually marry Zuko.

“I have work to do,” Katara replied stiffly, putting a hand over the bag at her side. She moved to squeeze past him to the main cabin of the airship as the men disconnected the metal gangplank with a loud _thunk_.

Dai said nothing, but looked pleased, _arrogant_ , like he’d cracked her open, when she knew she hadn’t given him anything, and never would. Yes, Zuko was Fire Lord, but her connection to him was not something to be dissected, analyzed, taken advantage of. It was _theirs_ , it was private, it was this thing that was so deep and visceral and powerful sometimes she couldn’t stand to think of her life without it. Without him.

Heat crept up her neck as she stalked into the main chamber of the airship. If she loved Zuko that much maybe Dai could really see right through her after all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm the worst I know and next chapter I will continue to be the worst, BUT although Aang will be forced to make a re-appearance Iroh and Toph obviously have to stick their noses into things so at least that's something to look forward to, maybe? If Katara and Zuko aren't going to make out at least they can be relentlessly teased about it. Thank y'all as always for your kind words and support!!


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised Iroh and Toph and I have not delivered! Please take Suki and Sokka as humble replacements along with this ridiculously long chapter that I promise will yield results right after this :) 
> 
> I say this every time, but your comments and kudos truly motivate me and make my day!!

In the end, she thought Gran Gran would be pretty proud of her dress. Despite the occasional swaying and shuddering in her cabin of the airship, she managed to neatly replace the red sash that cinched in her waist with a blue one and edge the collar with a thin line of blue too, which she matched when she adjusted the hem at the bottom—it wasn’t her cleanest work up close despite using her sharpest needle, but it would work for the time being. She frankly hadn’t sewn much silk in her life, but recalled one particularly dark and frigid winter with Gran Gran in front of the fire embroidering ceremonial robes lined with silk on the inside.

Regardless of the color, the robes were beautiful, richly patterned—she doubted she’d ever worn anything so expensive, and it occurred to Katara perhaps Ming had a _lot_ to make up for with her daughter if she was offering this. Ming would probably just scoff at that, act like she scrounged the dress from the back of her massive closet and that it was woefully out of season.

Time had flown by as she furiously sewed—the winds were favorable and by mid-morning the next day they had arrived in Ba Sing Se. She was glad to have something to distract her from the fact that she immediately missed Zuko when he disappeared from her sight—she’d think of him in flashes, sudden pangs of nostalgia, or when she wasn’t paying attention, and her longing would seep in before she chased it away. _Focus_ , she’d say to herself, or sometimes out loud, which never helped more.

Once they arrived at the palace, she and Dai were forced to endure the theatricality of a formal state welcome, which she had always found tedious and unnecessary, even back when Aang was welcomed across the four nations, but her disdain—fear, maybe—intensified knowing she would be the focus this time.

Dai said nothing when she appeared in her new clothes on the balcony of the airship—she glared at him the minute their eyes met, daring him, but he merely faced ahead against the railing as they docked.

Katara stood beside him, suddenly in a fluster about what to do with her hands. In her sleeves, at her side, behind her back? She tried to remember how Zuko normally presented himself, but recalled nothing useful because she was normally looking at his hair or his eyes or the stupid set of his shoulders.

Her eyes flicked over to Dai, hands in his sleeves, and she mimicked him. He smirked. 

“Don’t be nervous, Master Katara,” he said. 

She knew better than to admit weakness. “I do very well with Kuei.”

“Do you?” he asked.

Katara straightened, through her back creaked in protest from sitting hunched over her new robes for so long. “Yes, you see while _you_ were in the Fire Nation sucking up to Ozai, I was already rubbing elbows with Kuei during the war—and saving his life, of course.”

She kept her eyes ahead, but she could see Dai peeking at her, lip quirked up slightly, maybe at her audacity. She had not mastered the subtle barbs the nobility exchanged under the pretense of civility. Her emotions were normally plain on her face if they weren’t they were coming out of her mouth, passionate and unflinching.

Katara watched as the gleaming gold roof of the Earth Kingdom palace come into view—far below them and then at eye level as their little ship set down on the wide stretch of white stone in front of them.

“Have you ever been to the Earth Kingdom?” Katara asked, as the platform under their feet shuddered from the force of the ship setting down.

“I visited recently while you were in the North Pole,” he replied. “I paid my respects to General Iroh and surveyed a few properties of mine outside the city.”

Katara furrowed her brow and flashed him an uncertain look. “You know Uncle Iroh?”

“He’s not _your_ uncle,” Dai pointed out. “Yet, anyway. And of course I know him. He was the Crown Prince of the Fire Nation.”

She ignored his jab, maybe because she really _shouldn’t_ call Iroh that, no matter how much he insisted she do it.

“Sure, but _visiting_ him-,”

“Our sons were friends a long time ago.”

“Lu Ten and _Ryu_?” she began incredulously. 

He shook his head once. “My eldest, Osamu.”

Katara hesitated, faced the railing again, watching as their guards hurried to lower the gangplank now that the ship was set on solid ground. As far as she knew Ryu was an only child. She’d always thought that explained how excessively bratty he was.

She wrung her hands in her sleeves. “I didn’t know that you had…”

Dai shifted, eyes fixed on the palace. She wished she could say she saw some crack in his façade as he spoke, but he looked as stoic as ever.

“He died much earlier than Lu Ten, well before they breached the Outer Wall.”

Another victim of the siege that plagued Iroh so desperately. Fourteen-year old Katara would no doubt hate the sadness that clenched her heart now. _Good_ , she would have spat. _He deserves it. They deserve it._ She knew better now, that many people in the Fire Nation were victims of Ozai just as much as her. Maybe Osamu wasn’t, maybe he chased glory and hated the other nations and was cruel but—but that was the problem with war. It indiscriminately claimed victims, good or bad, in massive swaths and there was no glory in it, only death.

For all the bad of Dai’s mildly tyrannical control over the budget and policies for his own self-interest, he happily slashed the Fire Nation’s military apparatus to ribbons. Because he hated war, and not for once because of the financial cost.

Katara’s face was pinched with guilt and her eyes drifted down to the intricate red sleeves hiding her hands.

“I didn’t—I shouldn’t have said that. About you sucking up to Ozai,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

Dai exhaled a heavy breath. “I’m not proud of what I did during the war, but in Ozai’s court, you were either on his side or dead.”

The gangplank clunked to the ground next to them, startling her, and Katara hastily looked up. She meant to say more, but Dai merely gestured for her to start walking down ahead of him. First. They couldn’t go together, so he wanted her to be _first_. She wondered if Zuko had asked him to do that, let her lead, surely that’s the only way he’d allow it.

She was not going to refuse the chance to appear as the leader of their party, so she steeled herself with a hopefully imperceptible breath and headed down. The group waiting for them were all dressed in green, except for Aang’s pop of orange. She waited for Dai and they walked together to them, exchanging bows.

Aang’s brows rose hopefully upon their eyes meeting. It made Katara clench her jaw and hope no one noticed. Her relationship with Aang wasn’t necessarily fraught—they had exchanged some polite letters in the year since they last spoke—but somehow she felt awkward, on edge that he’d resurrect the same conversation they had over and over, which would be particularly uncomfortable since she had moved on to suitors that Aang may have a _tiny_ problem with. She told herself to focus again.

They exchanged clipped, cursory greetings among the welcoming party. Kuei was not present, nor Bosco, probably envisioned as some slight since Zuko didn’t show up himself either. Katara wasn’t concerned, it was all bluster, probably the advice of another cunning advisor sinking their claws into the affable king, which she could do too.

Aang rocked back and forth on his heels near the end of their conversation—she envied that he never had to care how people perceived him. Even more than royalty, his importance was steeped in him, preordained. He didn’t have to stand up straight or say the right thing to be respected.

They eventually dispersed, with servants directed to guide them to their rooms for the duration of their stay. 

“I’ll walk you to your room!” Aang volunteered, and Katara was no position to refuse, so she smiled and was lead in the opposite direction from Dai.

They carried along in silence for a few steps, but not for long. Aang shuffled close to her, almost lumbering, having gone from the shortest of them to almost comically tall and gangly.

“It’s good to see you,” he remarked.

Katara let her hands fall to her sides, shoulders slumping once they were out of sight of people who would care how straight she was standing. “You too, Aang.”

“And I mean—wow,” he said, both arms up and then flopping to his side. “Look at you. Your—your robes.”

Katara gave a tight smile. “I’m not here on my own behalf, Aang. I don’t—have that kind of power.”

“Sure, you do,” he replied brightly. It must have been nice to be the ever-optimistic Avatar. “You’re Master Katara!”

“That doesn’t mean much here,” she said. “I don’t think you would understand.”

His smile withered. “I do, I mean—I’m happy you’re here,” he said. “I think it’s right for you to participate in all this.”

Surely not everyone thought that, but she supposed it was a victory that the Avatar agreed with her.

“Thank you,” she said. 

More silence, which clearly Aang couldn’t stand. He fiddled with the end of his sleeve. “Listen, Katara, I know that we—that our last conversation…”

Katara hesitated, but shook her head. “I don’t think we should get into this again.”

Aang stopped and turned to her with an earnest look. “No, no, I want to apologize,” he insisted. “I was naïve, I kept holding onto hope, and that wasn’t fair to you.”

He looked sufficiently apologetic that she gave a sigh rather than frowning at him. “I shouldn’t have lost my temper,” she said. “You caught me by surprise.”

“I was—so stupid. Truly. I was in complete denial and I thought-,” He cleared his throat and looked down. “You know, you hadn’t found anyone, I thought you were just…wanting some space, for us.”

Katara flushed red, which was probably more obvious given her clothing choice. “Aang, I had relationships, I just didn’t tell _you_ about them.”

He rubbed his brow. “I know. I know that now.”

“I want to be your friend, truly,” she said. “But I will—I have moved on.”

Aang lifted his head. “Moved on?” he said. “Have you—are you-,”

She swallowed roughly, suddenly hot in addition to being bright red. Spirits, she really fell face first into this awful conversation, though of course Aang _would_ ask, probably hoping to continue to take comfort thinking of her chaste and alone. (When the opposite was true, even before Zuko.) 

“No, no,” she said hastily. “I-I mean—it shouldn’t matter-,”

He waved his hand. “You’re right, I’m sorry, really. It’s none of my business.”

She shouldn’t have said no. Pretended that there was no one because there was. Or maybe there wasn’t? If there was or there wasn’t, it was _Zuko_ and that was supposed to be Aang’s best friend.

“I’ve just—moved on with my life, Aang,” she said. “And that will include other people someday. All that stuff, getting married and…”

Katara really needed to shut up because even _not_ in front of Aang that thought made her stomach churn and with him watching her with those wide eyes of his, she just wanted to sink into the ground and disappear.

“I know, know,” Aang insisted. “And I want that for you, really.”

She could not look at him. “Thanks.”

He resumed walking and she shuffled after him before she felt a playful nudge.

“Just try not to shack up with anyone I already know,” he said jokingly.

Her neck snapped up, eyes wide and horrified. “Why would I-,”

He gave her a surprised look, and she panicked further because she was overreacting. “I was only kidding,” he said, palms facing her with a crooked smile. “I heard Haru got rid of that mustache—I think he’d be a pretty good catch now.”

Katara gave a small laugh—it sounded so stilted she cringed internally. “Toph would no doubt feel redeemed if that happened.”

“I don’t think we need to give her a reason to be more cocky,” Aang replied, chuckling far more genuinely than her. “By the way I told her to come down to visit, I know Suki and Sokka already are.”

Katara was happy at the prospect of seeing her friends, but by the same token wished one of those friends wasn’t a walking lie detector with a big mouth and no sense of decorum. Toph’s predilection for the word _fuck_ and the high chance of her finding out about everything with Zuko was a recipe for disaster.

“I wish Zuko could have come, too,” Aang continued. “Then we could all be together.”

“I wish he could have too,” Katara replied, so at least she was telling Aang the truth about _one_ thing.

It hadn’t even been two days and she missed him terribly, when she let herself think about it. Not that she hadn’t struck out on her own without him, but somehow leaving so much unresolved on her departure intensified the feeling that perhaps she was saying goodbye to more things than she really wanted to.

She packed those feelings away and smiled at Aang, which is what she did best anyway.

====

The negotiations with the Earth Kingdom took place in the same room where the Council of Five planned the invasion of the Fire Nation during the Day of the Black Sun. Katara was merely a messenger, then, a child that the generals smiled blithely at and didn’t really listen to—she wasn’t the Avatar after all, just his waterbending teacher, which didn’t impress much there.

She was the focus now. Maybe one quarter of the focus, anyway. Aang was the _most_ important and she wasn’t royalty otherwise, but at least she sat at the forefront and was treated by extension as if she was powerful enough to make decisions, despite sometimes still feeling like the same teenager with no experience who could only run scrolls back and forth.

What spurred these negotiations was the success of the Yu Dao governance model over the past two years. Rather than being burdensome or gridlocked, the former colony flourished, attracted more and more people, including business ventures like the Earthen Fire Refinery.

Other colonies in the region took notice and their leaders had demanded similar treatment—meaning a solution that they had sought to avoid war was now expected to be the default. The problem was a bunch of individually governed colonies was hardly efficient and not a solution the Earth Kingdom was eager to agree to. 

Kuei, of course, demanded the land be returned entirely. He viewed Yu Dao as a favor borne out of his benevolence and wasn’t excited about losing more territory (though it had been lost for a hundred years, really).

Kuei _himself_ did not say these words, but instead his chief negotiator Youna, a strikingly young and shrewd earthbender who emerged in the power vacuum left by Long Feng after the war. (Not as young as Katara, of course—Youna was probably twenty six or seven, but compared to the others she was quite fresh-faced.)

“We simply cannot let this—this _disease_ spread further outside of Yu Dao,” Youna declared after several hours of back and forth during their first meeting, mouth twisted in a scowl.

Katara tried not to roll her eyes. “The disease in this metaphor being _democracy_?”

Youna swept her hand across the map in front of them. “It cannot possibly be sustained and monitored in all these different places.”

“At least in Cranefish Town, we need to find a way,” Katara said. “The refinery there is run by private citizens from the Earth Kingdom _and_ the Fire Nation, but we expect it to be governed by one or the other?”

“It’s Earth Kingdom land,” Youna protested. “It’s our crystal deposit.”

“We are going to stifle further industry there if we snipe needlessly over who owns what,” Dai interjected.

“I would also be remiss not to point out that _technically_ this refinery was built on land sacred to the Air Nomads, not the Earth Kingdom,” Aang added.

Youna only frowned in response, no doubt afraid to snap back at the Avatar. Yet another thing Aang didn’t have to worry about—every time Katara spoke she felt immediately undermined or scoffed at.

Even with Aang there to deter outright hostility, they were getting nowhere. Katara resisted sighing heavily at it—Dai told her it was no use to express _emotion_ in negotiation, but they were talking in circles about who was owed what, not what they should _do_. It was the problem in Yu Dao all over again: not caring about the lives of the people in these places, but the history of it, who claimed what before, who stole what—all irrelevant when they could move _forward_.

“This is all convenient for the Fire Nation, isn’t it?” Youna sneered. “Make money off our resources while we fight over this, insist on _democracy_ that you’ll no doubt find some way to control-,”

“There has been no evidence that the Fire Nation unfairly controls things in Yu Dao,” Aang said. “If we form a coalition anywhere else, we can ensure it remains that way.” 

“Sounds like an expensive endeavor for a country that holds its purse strings so tight,” Youna said, and Katara could not dispute that, not just because Dai would have a stroke if they promised more coin to this effort.

She rubbed her brow and then dropped her hand back in her lap. There were little pins across the map in front of her indicating the relinquished colonies or ones now disputing Earth Kingdom rule—the problem looked manageable this way, but it really wasn’t. Each pin represented hundreds of people, with demands and expectations.

They were decently close together geographically but really quite different. They were coastal towns, perched along the bay in the part of the Earth Kingdom closest to the Fire Nation. She’d poured over reports on this region in her attempts to avoid Zuko before she left. It was valuable—rich in minerals, well-positioned for trade. Everyone was in such a fervor about it because ultimately whoever controlled it could amass a tremendous amount of wealth. She doubted there would be such rancor if these were colonies in the Si Wong desert.

Her last solution when presented with an impossible choice between the Earth Kingdom and the Fire Nation was to say _both_. Neither.

It had been two years, and Aang’s (her) idea was lauded as a good one—proof positive that nations formerly at loggerheads could work together.

But that didn’t make Katara a good diplomat. She was terrible, actually, because she had zero capacity to act only in the Fire Nation’s best interest, just like she never cared only for the welfare of the Southern Water Tribe. She’d seen the world, she cared about it, and maybe her same idea could work on a larger scale and benefit _everyone._

It almost felt stupid, juvenile, she knew it would be perceived that way given her age, but she stood to get a better look at the pins overhead. The Fire Nation hadn’t ventured in far, really it was just an isolated coastal region forever changed by Sozin’s greed.

Katara didn’t hesitate—she was tired of talking, tired of hang-wringing and overthinking, so even though she knew Dai would balk at her behavior, she leaned over more, dunked one finger into a nearby ink well and drew a circle with that finger around the bay and surrounding coastline.

“If we really want things to be fair, efficient-,” She pointed her now black-tipped finger at Dai. “-affordable, we should convert this entire region into one unified colony governed by one coalition.”

Aang’s brow brose. “That’s not a colony, that’s a country.”

Katara looked at the thick black line she’d drawn. “Maybe it is—maybe it should be.” 

Youna’s scowl deepened. “A country run by _who_?”

“Everyone,” Katara said, then she gestured to Aang. “The Avatar is right, there are lots of conflicting claims to this region, and we’re never going to find a solution, not with how valuable this all is-,”

“So we share it?” Youna interjected incredulously. “Like—like a bunch of _children_?”

Katara straightened. “I don’t know how you conduct yourself as an adult, but I have been known to share on occasion.” 

“I like the idea,” Aang remarked with a smile. “I think there’s no better way to commemorate the end of the war than to build a place where we all govern together. We’ve proven it works on a smaller scale.”

Youna exhaled a hot breath through her nose. “While I appreciate the sentiment, this proposal is _clearly_ at the expense of the Earth Kingdom-,”

Katara gestured to the map. “Your own citizens don’t want a return to the rule of a hundred years ago—they’ve grown accustomed to the people they live around, they like what they see in Yu Dao, you may find yourself with a rebellion on your hands if you insist on returning to the old ways.”

“And we’d have no obligation to help, if as you insist this is clearly Earth Kingdom territory,” Dai added.

“A fifth nation,” Youna spat. “The _nerve_. Is this truly what the Fire Nation is proposing?”

Katara opened her mouth but then snapped her jaw shut after a moment of hesitation, her teeth clinking. _She_ thought it was a good idea, but it couldn’t be said that her allegiance only laid with the Fire Nation or that she really should be speaking with this much authority. 

But Zuko trusted her, didn’t he? Asked her specifically to represent the Fire Nation in his stead, and if he were here, she had to believe he would agree—

“It is what we are proposing,” Katara confirmed, willing her voice not to waiver. Dai said nothing beside her, and she feared that if she looked she’d see disapproval, so she kept her eyes ahead and just let her heart race.

“And why would we ever agree to this?” Youna asked coldly. 

“The system in Yu Dao is _working_ ,” Katara insisted. “It is making _your citizens_ money, it is making them safer and happier—you will stifle these advancements if you _insist_ that the world return to what it was decades ago before the war began.”

Youna began stacking up her papers. “The Fire Nation’s proposal has been noted-,” She glared at Katara. “And our map _ruined_.”

Aang, as usual, tried to soothe ruffled feathers. “I think Kuei would agree that the most peaceful solution is best. If you would talk to him-,”

“Oh we will be having words,” she said sharply, and then stood. “This meeting is over.”

Katara did roll her eyes as Youna turned on her heel and stalked out the door with the fleet of people who came with her.

“I suspect she’s feigning offense to leverage more concessions when they finally do agree,” Katara said, after the door slammed shut.

“I would not put it past her,” Dai remarked. “Though you did spring the idea on her.”

Aang shrugged. “It’s the logical solution to all this, we can’t exactly deny the other colonies what Yu Dao has. I think it’s the best way forward.”

“Optimistic as ever,” Dai replied. “I see why you two are friends.”

He was mad. Of course he was. Katara awkwardly cleared her throat. “Aang, would you mind, um-,”

Aang stood and smiled. “Sure, but we should talk more after this.”

“Agreed,” she said hastily. “I’ll find you after.”

Aang slipped out of the room while Katara bent the ink off her finger with a wave of her hand to distract herself from what she feared would be a tirade from Dai.

“You know I don’t recall this little idea of yours coming up in our discussions with Fire Lord Zuko,” he remarked—he sounded condescending, but calm. So his tone all the time.

“I was not being devious,” she insisted. “I really hadn’t thought about this, we were supposed to wait to evaluate Kuei’s position and-,” She gestured exasperatedly. “We were just getting nowhere!”

Dai frowned. “You do not have the authority-,”

“I thought the point was that we did!” Katara protested.

“Not for—for-,” He pointed at the map. “Whatever _that_ was.”

“I know Zuko will agree with me,” she said.

“Only because we can hardly back out now,” Dai replied with a small scowl.

Katara huffed and crossed her arms. “You are just immediately discounting my idea.”

“You should not have proposed it without consulting me,” he snapped back.

“It’s a win, I’m confident it’s a _win_ ,” she insisted. “For a lot of reasons!”

“How?” he demanded. “Now we’ll have another nation to compete with-,”

“A fledging nation that we will play a part in building,” Katara said.

Dai scoffed. “As if that won’t cost any coin.”

Katara put her hands on her hips. “You will have _plenty_ of Fire Nation-centric narratives to take home with you. We are directly undermining the Earth Kingdom’s sovereignty in the region, the more we work together the less likely that we’ll go to _war_ ever again-,”

He raised a hand to stop her. “It’s not ultimately for me to decide.”

“Zuko will agree, I guarantee it,” Katara said. “Plus we have the Avatar on our side.”

His lips pursed tight. “You do have friends in high places, don’t you?”

“This is a good idea,” she ground out, jaw set tight because she was tired of her ideas and her success and her hard work being attributed to just having powerful allies.

“You would never think you have bad ones,” Dai muttered, then he stood and gave her a pointed look. “Fire Lord Zuko will be receiving a _full_ report.”

“Good,” Katara said, with too much force, because she was overcompensating. She rubbed the bridge of her nose and hoped her nerves weren’t too obvious from it. Spirits, was she trying to make _every_ aspect of Zuko’s life miserable? His job, his personal life, she was really managing to wreck _everything_ even from far away, and for a man she was supposed to love— 

_Focus, Katara,_ she thought. _Focus._

It didn’t work.

====

 _Dear Zuko_ ,

_Dai takes copious notes, so I’m sure you’ll be fully appraised of the situation here in Ba Sing Se once you read his report, but I thought I’d write to you anyway to tell you about it more._

_Dai was resistant to agreeing to anything on your behalf that we hadn’t discussed, so if you’re upset, please don’t blame him. He wants to do anything we can to avoid more war, but he would never presume to act against your wishes. I convinced him, but really you know how persistent and annoying I can be, so it’s not his fault. I promise I had everyone’s best interest at heart, and I really believed that you would think this was the best course. We’ve talked all the time about the future of the four nations, and how we should be working to co-exist together. ~~Isn’t that the whole reason it would be okay for us to get married one day?~~_

_I told Dai this was a win because it’s ultimately limiting the Earth Kingdom’s sovereignty in the region, but that’s just the drivel your other advisers need to hear. Think of how powerful it would be if the Fire Nation, a country that once viewed itself as superior to all others, spearheaded the effort to create a place where we all work together and are equal. It’s the future, it’s inevitable, ~~you and I are proof of that~~ and I think we should embrace it. _

_I’ll spare you from having to read any further soppy speeches. I would hate to start tearbending and smudge all this ink._

_I hope you are doing well and getting enough rest._

_~~All my love,~~ _

_~~Yours,~~ _

_-Katara_

====

_Katara,_

_Dai really does take a lot of notes, I don’t know how he writes so quickly, but I feel like I was right there at the meeting after several hours of reading, and I’m so impressed by you. Dai is, too—he said you performed “adequately” which I think is high praise from him. ~~You would be a truly amazing Fire Lady.~~_

_I told you to go to the Earth Kingdom to represent me, and I meant it, I trust you to do what is best for the Fire Nation. I would have made the same choice as you about the other colonies, this fifth nation, and I think it’s a great idea._

_It makes me happy to see how passionate you are about this, and I know you were uncertain at first, but you moving forward with this was truly the best option for all involved, and I hope you can see that and be proud of yourself._

_The next anniversary of the war is in three months, and I think by then things will have calmed down enough in the capital for me to attend. I’m sure it would cause a stir if I didn’t show up, though you would do a better job in my place anyway. It sounds like we will have a lot to discuss at the summit now, and I’m happy that you’ll be by my side for it._

_~~You are always on my mind.~~ _

_I look forward to seeing you soon._

_-Zuko_

====

Katara’s outburst at the negotiations attracted Kuei’s attention—perhaps he assumed she and Dai couldn’t commit to anything without Zuko’s explicit permission, which was his fault for not recalling her boldness. He attended the next meeting called a few hours later, far less sour in demeanor than Youna but nonetheless regarding this fifth nation proposal with trepidation.

She knew Kuei would need plenty of assurances and useless platitudes about what the Earth Kingdom deserved, but she was confident they could get to where they needed eventually, especially with Aang’s support, which she didn’t unequivocally expect but certainly appreciated.

Truly there was no better way for them to achieve harmony among the nations than for them to exist together in one place. Whether that would work remained to be seen, but Katara knew the economic prosperity in the region would give them the flexibility to try something different. (In her experience people tended to be less disgruntled when they were rich or at least not going hungry.)

She ran herself ragged with all this. In the name of _focus_. When she wasn’t negotiating (arguing) with Youna, or Dai, or reading, she was inhaling whatever food she could to stave off hunger and sleeping as little as possible since her dreams did not heed her pleas to focus on work matters. She could hardly stand to look in the mirror sometimes—not that she didn’t like her dress, but the red screamed _Fire Lady_ and that mix of emotions was too much for her to handle.

The worst was being alone. Seeing the endless affirmations in Zuko’s letters and wanting _more_.

Honestly she lamented that Aang was not a better friend, not that she could talk about all her problems anyway. Her trust in him had been broken and she _hated_ it, not in the least because it left her in an unfamiliar place, under endless scrutiny, pressure, not just from the Earth Kingdom, but Dai, too, who knew this was quite the trial for her and that she could _not_ fuck it up. He would be fair with her, and maybe even _agree_ with her, given his aversion to any further conflict, but she did not feel at ease with him.

That made Sokka and Suki’s arrival from Kyoshi Island a welcome reprieve. It was late when they finally made it to the palace, but Katara stayed up, eager, and they met her in her suite, which was adjacent to theirs.

Both looked weary from travel, but their eyes brightened upon seeing her, though she was sure she looked even more elated.

“Suki! Sokka!” 

She rushed to her brother and slammed into him so hard he staggered a little, though they were no longer children and he was much taller and sturdier than he used to be. She wrapped her arms around him tight, probably squeezing the air out of him. The swell of warmth and excitement cracked something in her—a chink in the armor encasing her unruly emotions that she’d crafted to keep her focus.

“It’s so good to see you,” she whispered hoarsely.

He squeezed her back. “You too, you big softie.” 

She gave a watery laugh, when it wasn’t even funny, and the tears welled up before she could help it, which was normal when she was reunited with her friends, but then suddenly she was weeping into his shirt.

She really didn’t know why she broke then—it reminded her of when she was a child once, on a fishing trip with their father and Sokka. She’d hooked her thumb on accident, deep, and she hadn’t cried, or panicked, but suddenly back in the village when her mother walked out to meet them, she unraveled the moment their eyes met and collapsed in her arms. 

Sokka seemed to notice she was clinging to him longer than usual and peeled her away with a curious look. “Uh…Katara?”

Suki’s eyes widened in alarm from beside him. “Oh, Katara what’s-,”

She flushed bright red, choked with embarrassment, hastily moving to wipe the evidence of her tears from her eyes. “Spirits, I’m so sorry-,”

Sokka held fast to her. “No, hey, tell me what’s wrong-,”

“Nothing, nothing,” she assured him, squirming from his grasp.

“You know you can talk to us,” Suki said gently.

Katara swiped the heel of her palms over her eyes to dispel the last bits of moisture clinging to her eyelashes. “I am just being—so incomprehensively stupid, I promise.”

Suki shifted so she was a little closer to her. “I know this all must be stressful, but it sounds like you’re doing an amazing job.”

Katara wondered if she should lie. Nod and smile meekly about the pressure of these negotiations getting to her, which maybe they were, but her life was so fractured otherwise it was hard to tell.

“I’m not—I had a lot of help,” Katara said. “It’s…not that.” 

“So are you upset about something else? Something personal?”

Katara tried not to blanch at that, but her deeper flush was no doubt a giveaway. Sokka took Suki’s soft prodding and turned it into indignation.

“Is it Aang?” he asked. “You know, I _told_ him-,”

She waved her hand. “No, no, it’s not Aang.”

“Alright, you have to tell us now,” Sokka insisted. “I want to know.”

“You _really_ don’t,” Katara muttered, and Suki raised an eyebrow.

Her brother fortunately wasn’t _that_ dense and his eyes widened. “Oh— _oh_ , is this like a romance, er, thing?”

“In a sense,” Katara said.

“Did some boy hurt you?” Sokka began. “I _will_ boomerang whoever-,”

“Pretty sure your sister could manage that herself,” Suki interjected with a snort.

Katara lifted her head and let out a sigh. This felt like very slow torture and she’d rather just cut to the quick and keel over.

“It’s Zuko,” she said.

Sokka furrowed his brow. “What about Zuko?”

Maybe still a _little_ dense. Suki gave him a swift elbow to the ribs. “A romance thing, Sokka.”

That was quick, even for Suki. She wondered if Zuko ever spoke to her about them, though she probably didn’t need it to make the right deduction. 

Sokka reeled a little bit and waved his hands. “Hold on, you’re with Zuko? Together?” he said. “ _Together_ together?”

“Seriously, the same word again,” Katara muttered as she dropped her head in her hand. 

“They like each other, I’m sure you’re familiar with the concept,” Suki said.

Sokka sputtered indignantly. “If that’s true, he should have _told me_ -,”

He petered off when Suki gave him a look that could melt metal.

“She’s my little sister!” he said exasperatedly in response.

Suki rolled her eyes and pointedly turned on her heel to face her. “Go ahead, Katara,” she said with a smile. 

Katara collapsed on the long couch behind her. Why had she admitted this? It was the opposite of being focused, no matter how poor of a job she was doing at that anyway.

“There’s nothing to say. Not really. I told him I needed space and—and I’m nowhere.”

“You’re not sure you like him?” Sokka asked.

Katara shook her head. “I’m not sure I want to be Fire Lady.”

He was disquieted but tried to hide it by clearing his throat. “I mean that’s—serious.”

She ran her hand over her face and down her neck—her skin still felt blotchy and hot from crying. “We can’t exactly be casual, with my job. Aang.”

Suki sat beside her, close. “Whatever you’re feeling, Katara, it’s okay.”

It wouldn’t feel this awful if it was okay. Katara grabbed a pillow and hugged it to her chest. “You know how much I care about my home and the tribe and I just—sometimes feel like I’m abandoning all that,” she whispered, then gestured down at her dress. “I mean look at what I’m wearing for one.” 

“You think you’ll be abandoning the tribe, if you’re…?” Suki stopped, as if _Fire Lady_ was somehow too scary to say anymore.

Katara nodded hastily, but kept her eyes down.

Sokka sat on the squat table in front of them, rubbing his neck. “Katara, your ambition was always too big for the South Pole. No one expects you to return there and stay put forever. I mean, you certainly wouldn’t have done that if you were with Aang.”

“But hardly anyone leaves the tribe,” she said weakly.

He snorted. “And _no one_ left to go travel the world with the Avatar and end the war, except us,” he said, then reached over and squeezed her knee. “Just because you live somewhere else doesn’t mean you aren’t still a part of your home.”

Katara gave a rueful smile. “I know, and that’s—what has comforted me for years now, but marrying into the _Fire Nation_ is-,” A heavy breath left her, voice softening. “An entirely different thing, isn’t it? After everything that happened.”

Sokka hesitated for a moment—perhaps he was also remembering the black ash falling around them all those years ago, into the snow, swirling it gray, their mother ripped from them and their father sailing off soon after.

“Isn’t it good?” he said quietly. “I mean, we’ll never have to fear the Fire Nation again if you’re their leader.”

 _No one_ would have to fear the Fire Nation again, not if she had anything to do with it, though Zuko was changing that himself anyway. And is that really what she wanted for the entirety of her life? Living in the Fire Nation, creating a legacy there, having royal-born children with crowns in their hair and fire in their hands? 

Suki gave her a little nudge. “And you love him, don’t you?”

Sokka looked disconcerted, mouth bunched on one side of his face, but said nothing.

Katara, too, felt out of sorts—she tried with tremendous effort to squash these emotions she had because she didn’t want to be consumed or distracted by them. But she did love him, his fragile half-smiles, his hardheadedness, the desperate softness that had clawed out of him after years of it being beaten away by his father.

“I do,” Katara admitted eventually. “A lot.” 

Sokka pinched the bridge of his nose and rested his elbows on his knees. “Spirits, I’m going to need a minute.”

“Honestly,” Suki hissed in his direction, glowering at him. 

He looked up and gestured helplessly between them. “She said—you said _love_! Romantic love for—for _Zuko_?” He leaned in closer with a frantic whisper. “Do you know what that means?”

Suki furrowed her brow. “What it _means_ -,”

“Sex,” Katara supplied dryly, crossing her arms tighter over her pillow.

Sokka flapped his hand as if the word was hovering between them like a wisp of smoke.

“As if it wasn’t bad enough you’re my kid sister, you really have to do—do _that_ with _him_?”

Suki crossed her arms. “You should be glad-,”

“ _Glad_?” he demanded, offended.

“Zuko is your friend, he’s going to treat Katara very well-,”

“That’s _disgusting_!”

“I didn’t mean it like that!” Suki protested hotly, then her tone lowered significantly and she shrugged. “Though I’m sure he will be plenty attentive-,”

“Suki!” he whined, all at once sixteen again, while Suki gave a sharp laugh.

Blood surged into Katara’s cheeks and she was sure there was none left in the rest of her body—for lots of reasons, mostly because she really didn’t want to contemplate that kind of romantic activity with her brother sitting across from her, even though she thought about it pretty much any other time. (That was when it was hardest to focus.) 

Suki gave another small laugh as her brother peeked his head up from where it was buried in his hands, as if checking it was safe to emerge. She put her hand on Katara’s forearm.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t tease right now,” she said.

Katara’s shoulders sagged and she leaned further backwards. “No, it’s—refreshing after weeks of, I don’t know, stewing on it.”

“You don’t need to stew,” Sokka said. “Don’t let yourself feel bad for what you want.”

“Trust me, being Fire Lady was _not_ on my mind before I—I-,”

“Was stupid enough to fall for the Fire Lord?” Sokka suggested, and Katara glared at him until he raised his hand in apology. 

“Fine—you want my advice?”

Katara gave him a droll look. “No I just thought we could talk more about me having sex.”

Suki gave a muffled laugh while Sokka shuddered dramatically.

“Do you want it or not?” he asked after a huff.

“Of course, Sokka,” she said.

He splayed his hand across his chest for better effect. “My take, as your better and older and wiser brother is that you decide what you carry with you,” he said. “You can be Water Tribe in the Fire Nation and it may very well do them—do the _world_ some good to see that.”

She hated that her brother could be insightful in his old age. “Even after everything the Fire Nation did?” 

“They can’t be condemned forever, and you want to change them from who they were, not _be_ them,” he said. 

Katara was lulled for a moment by his words before shaking her head. “I know you’re trying to comfort me, but please, tell me the truth,” she said. “You’re my brother, and my family is so important to me. If it makes you uncomfortable, if it changes anything-,”

He shook his head. “Listen, it bothers me far more that my _little sister_ is planning on dating my best friend than it does that he’s from the Fire Nation. Or Fire Lord, or whatever.”

“You promise?”

He gave a small smile. “Yes, Katara.”

She was relieved, but not enough, never enough—spirits, she was so _uptight_ sometimes. Unable to crush the doubt, the guilt, the fear. She loved Zuko, wasn’t that all that mattered? 

“Thank you, Sokka,” she said, smiling in return anyway because no one but herself could tell her what she should— _wanted_ to do. “You’ve been equal parts insufferable and heart-warming.”

“It’s what I do best,” he replied with a wry smile.

Suki gave her another nudge, their arms pressed together. “He meant to say you’re welcome and that we love you no matter what.”

“Speak for yourself,” he muttered, and Suki playfully shoved his knee after.

Katara’s expression faltered, seeing the way Suki adored him. She wasn’t angry, or jealous, just longing for simplicity, maybe. The certainty that they had.

She hated not having certainty. Hated the thought of arriving back in the Fire Nation with nothing better to say than, _I still don’t know, Zuko_. How long would he wait before he told her to forget it, it wasn’t worth it, it shouldn’t have happened?

Here was the truth: it was already ruined. That’s why she felt helpless and empty-handed, that’s why she hated it. It was a dam that was burst and gushing, one of his fancy palace plates shattered beyond repair, as if she could just sweep the glistening pieces under the door and keep her job, build a life in the Fire Nation without him in it. As much as she wanted to give into her desperate feelings, the longing, she couldn’t let it define her life. She had to be where she wanted for herself, not for him. And as usual, she didn’t know where she to be. 

====

_Dear Zuko,_

_Dai’s reports will again be far more illustrative in regards to our subsequent meetings with the Earth Kingdom, but I think they’ve been a success. Aang is on our side, though not nearly as persistent or aggressive as I’d like during negotiation. When I told him this, he said I should be patient, which we both know isn’t my strong suit. Still, he supports my idea, and Kuei has begrudgingly agreed, so I think we can say we accomplished something while I was here._

_We are scheduled to return to the capital in two days. Dai is eager to return, but—and please don’t be upset by this—I think it would be best for me to stay behind. I want to travel to Yu Dao and the surrounding areas to get a better understanding of what is going on there, instead of just hearing secondhand. ~~I miss you desperately but~~ If we’re really going to move forward with this plan, someone should go, learn, and I’m already here. Kuei hasn’t been, no one has, and we both know from experience it’s important to see and understand the people who we’re sitting around making policies about. _

_By the time I get down there and back, it’ll be time for the summit, so I think it’s best for me to remain in the Earth Kingdom until then. ~~I’m not avoiding you. Maybe I am a little. I’m more confused than ever and this sucks.~~_

_I’ll prepare full reports for you and the rest of the council on my findings, if you agree to my plan._

_-Katara_

====

_Katara,_

_~~You’re avoiding me. You don’t have to avoid me, please just come back~~ _

_I agree with your proposal and look forward to receiving your reports on the region. I will see you in a few months in Ba Sing Se._

_~~You’re going to break my heart, aren’t you?~~ _

_-Zuko_


	23. Chapter 23

Zuko’s three months in the Fire Nation before the summit were—tolerable. It was hot again, the swelter of summer slowing the bustle of the capital from the springtime, but for once dripping in sweat in his heavy robes seemed a better alternative to whatever was going to happen in Ba Sing Se. 

He stopped giving things between him and Katara much thought during that time because it accomplished nothing. Feeling helpless or uncertain wasn’t his favorite, but he couldn’t be stupid—it’s not as if he could march down to the High Temple and inquire innocently about the viability of him marrying outside the Fire Nation without the Fire Sages being able to guess with terrifying accuracy that he had plans for the beautiful and eligible woman who he spent _all_ his free time with.

He steeled himself instead, to everything but his work. He still had to be Fire Lord, which meant doing his job and squashing his desire to sprint to the top of some abandoned volcano and scream about how unfair it all was. Which accomplished nothing the first time he did it anyway.

Really before he knew it, he was being ushered into an airship with his guards in preparation for their journey to the summit, in the Earth Kingdom this year because the Fire Nation had hosted the last. Zuko _thought_ he was prepared for anything upon his arrival in Ba Sing Se. Katara ignoring him, Katara having not even returned, Katara throwing her arms around him and kissing him, which…seemed unlikely.

None of it would happen right away, in any event. He had to touch down at the Kuei’s palace and be welcomed in some absurd performance meant to show off how rich and powerful the Earth Kingdom was. It was tiresome, being met with such fanfare everywhere he went. He slipped comfortably into the role of regent when he was, posture straight, hands in his sleeves, passive really, it helped not to think about all the people watching him as he disembarked.

It was a clear, cloudless day, the sun beating down but the air still crisp compared to the suffocating heat in the Fire Nation this time of year. He expected green. Lots of green.

Katara was wearing _red_.

He’d never, ever asked her to, never entertained that she _would_ , and yet she was beside Aang draped in silk that was—was _not blue_.

It was stupid, how much it astonished him. She’d exclusively worn red on Ember Island, and he hadn’t cared then, but now it was all he could think about as he walked down the gangplank from his airship.

He knew he could not show any visible signs of panic—he had the decency to see her standing there, brown hair tumbling past her shoulders, and tactfully look away. Only Toph wouldn’t be fooled because his heart was beating frantically in his chest, but she wasn’t here anyways.

It was all very _Fire Lady_ of her, and he felt like he was being pulled apart. Her last letter wanting to stay behind—it was fine. Just fine for her to trample on his heart and hand it back to him with a smile because that was _her right_ and there was nothing he could do to change who he was or change the fact that she was being asked to join the nation that _killed her mother_. 

This was really not an appropriate place to have those thoughts, or any discussion at all, so he passed her and Aang with a polite smile before formally greeting Kuei. Katara made no move to follow him as he was escorted to his room.

There were a number of reports to read when he arrived, some urgent correspondence, as always, and it occurred to him he probably should talk to Katara at least about business since she had spearheaded negotiations about forming a _fifth nation_ on his behalf. He was reluctant to do that for more reasons than he could count. 

He realized with sinking dread that _this_ is what Katara was afraid of—awkwardness and uncertainty making it impossible for them to do their jobs, or at least marginally more difficult than when they’d been just friends. 

When he managed to get some semblance of control over everything he was supposed to read, he went to hurry out of his suite under the pretense of finding Aang, but when he opened the door, a woman in red was already standing there.

Except this woman in red was Katara, even prettier up close, and he hoped his sharp intake of breath was not detectable, though based on her surprised expression that was unlikely.

“Hi,” she said, lowering her fist awkwardly to her side because she hadn’t had the chance to knock. 

“H-Hi.”

Silence after. They both stood in the doorway, fascinated by their feet.

He probably needed to make it into the hallway at some point rather than them circling one another mired in awkwardness. He cleared his throat.

“I, uh, like your dress,” he remarked. “You didn’t have to wear red though.”

She looked up at him. “I know. I chose to, I thought it was important.”

“Well you look—really pretty,” he said, and then marveled that even when he thought in _advance_ about what to say, he still sounded like an idiot.

Katara ducked her head a little, lips pressing into a nervous smile.

“Don’t get used to it,” she said. “I still prefer blue.” 

He preferred her in blue, too. How could he not, with those eyes?

A defeated breath left him—a defeat of what, he didn’t know, and he rubbed his neck.

“Thank you, Katara,” he said. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to express how grateful I am for everything you’ve done. I doubt the Fire Nation deserves any of your kindness-,”

Her brows knit together. “Don’t paint me as such a saint, I get a lot out of it, too, you know,” she said. “I mean, we’re creating a new nation and I get to be there for it.”

“The world will continue to be a better place because of you,” he replied. 

She said nothing and shoved her hands into her sleeves—she probably thought he couldn’t see her wringing them, but he’d worn these clothes too long not to recognize the shift of the fabric, the twist in her elbows. He hated to upset her. She was quiet even longer, the delicate skin on her neck contracting as she swallowed.

“I missed you, Zuko,” she admitted, after a few moments.

He didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t angry, precisely, his heart swelled hearing the words, knowing they were reciprocated, but what was the point anymore?

“I’m here now,” he said instead.

She blinked and then looked back down, embarrassed.

“I-I—I’m glad,” she stammered. “Maybe we should-,”

A door down the hallway flew open and slammed into the wall, rattling in its frame from the force and interrupting her. Sokka barreled out of it, cackling, voice echoing up the high ceilings. Aang and Suki were with him, quieter obviously, but they noticed Katara in Zuko’s doorway a few feet away.

Aang waved to them. “Hey guys, come grab some food with us!”

Suki and Sokka exchanged a look between them, an uncomfortable one, and he felt a flush run up his neck. He wondered what Katara had told them while she was here and how badly Sokka wanted to give him a swift kick to the stomach. When he'd greeted them earlier outside his airship, they seemed friendly enough, so perhaps his friendship was still salvageable with Sokka despite him being hopelessly in love with his sister. 

Katara tugged at the ends of her hair. “Thanks, Aang—I, uh, have some work to do before the banquet, I should probably pass.”

“Me too,” Zuko added hastily.

Aang gave a shrug. “Suit yourselves,” he said, and then he was setting off back down the hallway with a skip in his step as usual.

Suki and Sokka trailed him, though he could have sworn that Sokka gave him some sort of glare over his shoulder while Suki dragged him along, which Katara didn’t see since her eyes were on her hands.

“They—know,” Katara remarked when they were far enough away, confirming his fears. “Not Aang, of course. The others. I shouldn’t have, but I—I…”

“It’s okay,” he said. “I’ll sleep with one eye open.”

That wrested a small smile out of her. “Sokka’s full of hot air, don’t let him scare you.”

“I’ve accepted that he’s going to put me in a headlock and threaten to rip my spine out,” Zuko said.

She gave a soft laugh. “Think of what he’d do if he _didn’t_ like you.”

Zuko imagined it would involve a boomerang or his space sword if he ever found it again, but before he could say anything, her smile had faded and her eyes were back on the elaborate brocade on her sleeves.

Logically he wanted to think that she was uncomfortable because of the guilt she had over this whole situation, rather than guilt about a decision she’d already made. But something about the tense set of her brows made his stomach drop. Relentlessly negative, maybe, but even here it was necessary to steel himself until he could wrap his head around the thought of her rejection.

He was saved of course by a messenger hurrying down the hall to present him with a scroll after a low bow. He thanked the man, but he was already off again, shoes clicking on the smooth marble floor. Zuko should have known there would be no end to things the minute he touched down at the palace.

Katara pivoted to offer him the chance to step into the hallway since she’d been blocking him. “Sorry, I know you’re busy. I shouldn’t have…”

“It’s fine,” he said quickly. “I just have a lot to do before the—stupid party.”

“Maybe don’t call it that to anyone else,” she remarked with a slightly amused look.

He passed her and ignored that her hair smelled so nice. “Sage advice as always, Councilwoman Katara.”

She didn’t smile this time, but he could see the crease in her brow soothing slightly, eyes less tinted with concern, either way she twisted his stomach into knots.

She hesitated, but then spoke as he turned to face her completely. “Maybe later we could…?”

The knots tightened, painfully, all dread and fear and certainty that she wouldn’t say yes to him and he never should have thought she wanted to.

“Of course. Sure,” he said. “We can—I mean, should probably.”

Her hands closed in near her stomach. “I know that this is…” A sighed slanted her shoulders. “I’m just sorry for-,”

Her apology terrified him. Not that Katara didn’t apologize for things she shouldn’t, but this time— _this time_ maybe she was sorry that they joined hands and took clumsy steps into something more and she was pulling back, destroying him—them.

“Don’t apologize,” he interjected. “Please. No matter what.”

Her lips pressed into a hesitant line. “Zuko-,”

“I should go,” he said, gesturing haphazardly with the scroll in his hand. “Really. I’m—I have to go.”

Katara said nothing, though her hands did drop to her sides, obscured by her sleeves. He gave a quick nod before hurrying off down the hallway.

He did not miss the irony in it—who was avoiding who now, but at least he did so with a little less dramatic distance. He just couldn’t stand to hear the tremor of guilt in her voice, or see it in those blue eyes when he’d only ever wanted her to be happy and nothing about this was doing that. Actually, maybe that’s not all he wanted. Maybe he could be honest, to himself, that there was something selfish and desperate in him that longed for her to choose him because that’s what would make _him_ happy. And maybe he just wasn’t ready to face the reality of that not happening just yet.

====

It would probably come as no surprise to anyone who had more than a five second conversation with Zuko to learn that he did not like parties. He resented that people painted him as some grumpy curmudgeon because of it—he didn’t hate _fun_ , just fancy soirees overflowing with people desperate to talk to him or schmooze him or needle him about politics or worse his marriage prospects.

The banquet on their first night of the summit in Ba Sing Se was no different, except he was met with some disdain or hostility from time to time among the Earth Kingdom nobility that shuffled around him in the large, dimly-lit room draped in gold and green. A nice change of pace, frankly, from the monotony of being given the same tired compliments over and over by scheming Fire Nation courtiers.

Katara had changed out of her red robes for the event—now that the Fire Lord had arrived she had no need to represent the Fire Nation, and he couldn’t deny that he kept twisting his neck around to look every time he saw a flash of blue in the corner of his eye. (Which resulted in him being caught more than a few times staring at Sokka, also in blue, who in turn glared at him with nostrils flared—a cruel, ridiculous thing, really, because if Zuko was going to face the ire of his best friend, he would at least appreciate being able to _actually_ be with that friend’s sister.) 

He drank entirety too much wine to cope with it—all of it— equal parts sweet and bitter on his tongue. He had managed to carve out a few minutes with no interaction as he nursed his latest cup when he heard a chair clatter beside him.

Before he had a chance to turn, a fist collided with his upper arm with so much force he teetered slightly. His eyes snapped around with a ferocious scowl, which was _not_ softened by the fact that Toph was smiling crookedly at him.

She was supposed to have visited Katara a few months ago, and according to reports _had_ left her metalbending academy before apparently getting sidetracked and gallivanting off to who-knows-where—a swamp, probably—and having only just arrived this evening. Toph had not exactly gotten more reliable in adulthood, as she was still quite flighty and subject to the whims of her long-repressed urge for freedom.

“Nice of you to finally show up,” Zuko remarked, rubbing his arm. He used to reprimand her endlessly about the punching to little avail.

Toph settled beside him with her hand on the back of his chair, half-empty drink clutched in the other.

“Like you wouldn’t skip this dumb party if you could,” she replied with a snort.

“I may anyway,” he muttered.

She pinched his cheek. “Aw, is Sifu Hot Pants not having fun brooding in the corner?” 

“Honestly, Toph, that _name_ , ” he said—whined, maybe, since he didn’t care much for his dignity at this point. 

She put her cup down and raised her hands in supplication. “You’re right, I’m sorry. This is an important diplomatic event, I will call you by your formal title. Fire Lord Secretly-in-Love-with-Katara.”

Zuko groaned and rested his hand against his temple—if only lightning would strike him now and put him out of his misery.

Toph snickered in response, but then stopped, tilting her head curiously like some incorrigible rabaroo. “That’s weird.”

He froze, gaze guiltily jumping to her—he spoke, hoping to stop her from snooping further. “You know, this is a _massive_ invasion of my-,”

Toph flicked her hand, earthbending the ground under him so his chair was hauled beside hers, wobbling dangerously as he clung to the seat and glowered at her. She leaned very close to him.

“Every time I’ve accused you of being secretly in love with Katara, your heart rate literally _skyrockets_ —and now, suddenly, not a peep,” she said, then leaned even closer, breath saturated with wine. “Is it not a _secret_ anymore, Zuko?”

He clenched his jaw tight because even if he _could_ lie to Toph, he doubted it would be convincing. Still he gave it a try. “I don’t know what you’re-,”

“Spare me,” Toph interrupted, unimpressed, as he suspected. “And you know what—I _resent_ that you don’t want to tell me the truth. I am your friend, and do you _really_ want to confide in _Sokka_ about the fact that you’re fucking his-,”

“I am not _doing that_ ,” he hissed.

Toph settled back in her chair, one hand on her chin, gears in her brain obviously turning since he wasn’t lying about not having slept with Katara. Despite _wanting_ to very badly.

“I believe you,” she finally said. “But how come you weren’t all up in arms when I accused you of being in love with her?”

He crossed his arms, scowling. “We may have—had some discussions about it.”

Toph gaped at him. “You’re joking.”

“Pretty sure you could tell if I was,” he muttered. 

She shook her head. “Wow, Sparky, that’s—super gross, but good for you I guess.”

Only Toph would find him disclosing his feelings somehow worse than if they were just having sex.

“We’re not together and— frankly you cannot tell anyone we had this conversation,” Zuko said.

“What do you mean you’re not together?” Toph asked incredulously. “You just said you had-,”

Zuko waved his hand and made an exasperated sound. “It’s very complicated.” 

She flopped very dramatically against her chair, arms hanging limp, eyes rolling. “For fuck’s sake-,”

“ _Toph_ -,”

One finger rose to point at her face. “Did you see, am I doing it? Am I rolling my eyes?”

“Yes, point made,” Zuko ground out. “Now can you please _keep it down_?”

Toph resumed her dramatic posture, chin tilting up to the ceiling. “Seriously Zuko you are like the Avatar of loneliness.”

He just sighed until he felt a bony elbow in his side. “You know,” she said. “Like instead of mastering the four elements you’re the master of-,”

“Yeah, got it, Toph.”

She dug in harder and he gave her a few light slaps on the arm to get her to quit.

“Come on, what’s your problem?” she asked. “Can’t you be happy for like two seconds about this?”

Zuko rubbed his fingers against the crown of his head because he realized he couldn’t run them through his hair without destroying his topknot. “It’s not so easy. Sometimes I wonder if I should have said anything at all.”

“Because it would have been preferable to suffer in silence forever?” she replied with a raised brow. 

He frowned. “I know you’re well aware of everything that makes this so difficult, and as much as you might like, it can’t be taken lightly.”

“I’m _also_ well aware that you’re making yourself needlessly miserable over something that will work out in the end,” Toph replied.

Zuko twisted in his chair to face the crowds of people milling around. “Are you a fortuneteller now?”

“Just not an idiot.”

“Thanks,” he said sarcastically.

Toph straightened in her seat to reach her wine glass—how she fit all the alcohol she drank into such a small body he’d never know. 

“Katara loves your dumb personality and your stupid face,” Toph said. “She’s gonna stick around.”

Zuko couldn’t help but give a short laugh. “I’m quite a catch, I see.”

“You are,” she replied, sounding _slightly_ serious, which he supposed was touching.

He patted her leg. “Thanks, Toph.”

She slurped her drink and gave a satisfied smack of her lips after. “I’m the best, I know.”

“Like the little sister I never had,” he said.

“Because the little sister you _do_ have is an annoying and slightly homicidal nutcase?”

“I would say you two have that in common.”

She gave an offended gasp and with a flick of her wrist earthbent the ground again to pull his chair out from under him, sending him flailing until he hit the ground on his butt.

“Toph!”

She picked up her wine glass and stood. “Love you brother!” she said cheerily and then skipped off into the crowd. 

He rubbed his spine where it had hit the floor before he hastily straightened and climbed back into his chair. Obviously it was a slightly scandalizing thing for Toph to do, but anyone who knew her would not be surprised at the fact she had no qualms about beating up on the Fire Lord, and he in turn did not have the heart to chastise her about it.

Zuko scanned the room, head ducked slightly to ensure no one had seen him flailing, before his eyes snagged on Katara, staring _back_ at him, brow wrinkled. She had noticed their horseplay, perhaps, or spared him a glance and saw him no longer in his chair. Or maybe he could be generous enough to think she was watching him as much as he watched her.

She mouthed _are you okay_ at him, and he waved his hand to reassure her before pointing down at Toph who had not made it far and was gesticulating dramatically in a group of nobles.

Katara grinned at that, the first time he’d seen such an unrestrained expression since he arrived and probably not one to surface again given their awkward interactions. Her sleeve was tugged shortly after, and to his disappointment she turned all the way around to someone in green talking animatedly to her. Her hair swished from shoulder to shoulder when she did—she had such nice hair, he missed burying his nose in it, when he could feel it between his fingers, like the one stupid chance he’d gotten to kiss her for any real amount of time.

He drained his wine glass—these were clearly fantastic thoughts to be having as he sat alone at a formal state function, not depressing or heart-wrenching at _all_ , but it was no surprise when he was distracted, his brain slightly foggy, that he would always make his way back to Katara. He wondered if the same thing ever happened to her, and if that longing and emotion was really enough to make her stay. 

He gave an annoyed grunt and rubbed his nose. He was the Avatar of loneliness _and_ drama apparently.

====

Katara had been looking forward to returning to Ba Sing Se for the summit after her time in and around Yu Dao. Despite the promise of prosperity, it was still a decently rural area, and to make her trip as efficient as possible she often slept on a bedroll rather than finding a room, and she moved quickly to cover as many colonies as possible. It reminded her of the good old times, which in retrospect were maybe good for other reasons than having to camp out at night without a bed or a roof over her head.

She had been foolish to be excited for a soft mattress and down pillows, though, because nestled among them each night back in the Earth Kingdom capital, her eyes were practically wrenched open, glistening in the darkness. Plagued by indecision and guilt and longing that would not grant her sleep.

The time was good, in Yu Dao. For the Fire Nation, for her job. Doing the thankless work to make their big idea a practical reality. Zuko wouldn’t begrudge her that, even if it was a convenient means to keep focusing on everything except her personal life.

She was trying, she really was. Especially since she knew the minute she saw Zuko he’d unravel her carefully-erected defenses. Whether it was a good idea or a bad idea, or whether it would work or it wouldn’t, she had intense feelings of longing and love when she was with him that couldn’t be reasoned with.

His last letter had to be thrown out because it was eventually indecipherable, not from rain but because she cried over it repeatedly and smudged the ink beyond recognition. She could feel his despair in the blank spaces, and maybe he could feel the uncertainty in hers. But what was she supposed to say?

_I’m sorry I’m uncertain. I’m sorry I said anything before I was sure. I’m sorry that no matter how much I love you it scares me to promise myself to a place that might never accept me or our children._

He’d only ever say it was okay. Maybe that’s why she needed to stay in the Earth Kingdom because when she saw him, and he placated her, she wanted to scream at him to just say anything _else_ , to tell her the answers to the questions she didn’t have, as if that act of reliance wouldn’t be a disaster in itself.

Fittingly, they had hardly any discussion about it at all when he finally arrived after so many months. Not that the banquet was the right place for it, or in the hours before when an unending stream of people required his attention, but still it haunted her with earnest now.

Zuko left the _stupid party_ his first night early. Not as early as Toph, but still as soon as it was acceptable, he was gone, back to his suite, and she wondered if she should follow him. She didn’t. Couldn’t.

The next day was equally busy, sitting near him, no longer able to hide her nervously fidgeting hands in her sleeves. He was plenty polite and supportive; in fact when anyone would try to speak about their new plans for the fifth nation, he more often than not passed the conversation to her to elaborate on the Fire Nation’s position. It was almost infuriating—if she liked him less, this all might be easier.

When they broke for a longer recess before dinner, Katara set off into the upper ring. She craved tea in times of stress, and there was no better source for that than Iroh. She had visited him a lot since being in Ba Sing Se, usually at the same time every afternoon, carefully skirting around any conversation about Zuko that dealt directly with her, though they did otherwise discuss him a lot since it was Iroh’s favorite subject. 

The Jasmine Dragon was situated on a handsome pavilion near the palace, replete with a babbling fountain and pristine white stone. Katara stuck out among the relentless gold and green around her, but she’d been here long enough the occasional flash of blue was probably not all that surprising to the wealthy nobles who kept a watchful eye on the wide streets of the upper ring.

She climbed the wide steps to the door, pushing it open and slipping inside—Iroh’s shop was always crowded, especially in the early evening, all soft chatter and the clinking of porcelain.

Iroh was not in the front, probably bustling around in the kitchen, and she turned to find a free table. She spotted a young man alone near the window, in green robes, eyes down so she could only see the dark hair on the top of his head—hair that she thought endlessly about running her fingers through.

“Zuko,” she blurted out, and his neck snapped up. “W-What are you doing here?”

He furrowed his brow. “In…Uncle’s tea shop?”

She would have smacked herself if it wouldn’t make her look like an insane person.

“Right,” she said hastily, cheeks going pink. “That was—stupid, of course you’re here…”

They were both startled by footsteps behind her. “Katara!” Iroh exclaimed, tray in hand and broad smile on his face. “Jasmine, just for you,” he said. “Come sit beside Zuko.”

Katara instinctively took a step back, but was grabbed by her shoulder and steered over to him before she could really protest. Iroh plopped her unceremoniously across from him and set her tea down.

“I hope you enjoy this blend,” he said. “And your company, of course.”

“Thanks, Iroh,” she mumbled, defeated by his coercive kindness and her stupidity for coming here at all. He patted his nephew’s shoulder and scuttled off. 

More awkward silence followed, like they were turning it into a _sport_ , and Katara rested her elbows on the table between them. One hand rose to cradle her cheek and she peered out the circular window at the front of the shop onto the plaza.

“Uncle asked me to come at this time,” Zuko eventually remarked.

“It’s—usually when I visit,” Katara admitted with a flush that she could feel against her palms.

He didn’t reply right away, just dropped his chin and muttered something about a _meddling old man_ before taking a sip of his tea. 

“I, um—don’t have to stay,” he said to her.

She returned her gaze to him. His eyes were practically glimmering gold in the light from the window.

“Do you want to leave?” she asked. 

“No.” 

That was the answer she wanted, right? Even if it seemed to pain him to give it?

Katara reached out and grasped her cup. It was warm, the perfect temperature, though she would expect nothing less from Iroh.

“I—like your robes,” she said. 

Zuko looked down and gave a half shrug. “I just thought the regalia and crown might catch a few eyes.”

“A few,” she agreed. “They’re not the ones you wore during the war.”

“Too small now,” he said.

“Oh right. You’re much bigger,” she replied, then blanched. “Not _bigger_ , I meant—you know, muscular. Sorry, _taller_. I—I just meant-,” She rested her head in her hand, a few fingers propping up the crown of her forehead. “That you’re an adult, um—male.”

He was quiet, and Katara dared to peek up at him, saw his mouth twisted in a half smile—his bemused expression mortified her, and her eyes darted back down.

“Sorry, I’m—clearly not good for conversation right now,” she muttered.

He shook his head. “I have no right to opine on being good at conversation.”

“Right. _Hello, Zuko here_.”

A huff of a laugh left him as he brought his cup to his lips. “At this point I’m convinced that will be carved on my gravestone.”

“I suppose Sokka could be persuaded to put _jerkbender_ instead,” she said.

“That’s Fire Lord Jerkbender to you.”

Katara laughed, lifting up her head—the rapid change in volume startled her and she quickly shut her mouth, reddening further.

Zuko seemed pleased to draw a smile from her, but otherwise said nothing and rubbed his neck once his cup was back on the table. 

He was far too handsome for his own good sometimes. Maybe all the time, so she looked out the window again to save herself from further embarrassment being caught ogling. Iroh had installed larger ones at the front upon his return to the city, for better light, and she could see the entire plaza and people in green and gold scurrying on the paved streets.

“You know, I saw you,” she eventually said. “Here, during the war.”

“You didn’t say anything,” he replied, brow furrowed. 

Katara nodded. “I went to find help. I probably should have just marched in and beat the shit out of you.”

“Well thank you for sparing me,” he said with another small smile. 

“You seemed so—normal. It was a little infuriating at the time, I think,” she said, then looked over at him. “Were you here long?”

“Relatively,” he said. “We had a couple of close calls—you know, people suspecting us of being firebenders, but otherwise I guess Mushi and Lee were pretty convincing covers.”

“ _Lee_?” 

He cleared his throat. “That was just my, um—fake name-,”

“Is _that_ why you kept acting so jealous of my friend from the tea shop?” she asked incredulously.

There was a slash between his brow and the red skin of his scar. “I was not _jealous_ -,”

“You _absolutely_ were.” 

“I—I-,” He had no defense and crossed his arms with a grunt.

She chuckled. “There was nothing to worry about-,”

“Maybe I could believe that if he ever wore a _shirt_ ,” he grumbled. 

Katara leaned against the back of her chair. “You should know by now that my type is only exceedingly powerful men. The Avatar, the Fire Lord-,”

He snorted. “Going to go after Kuei if this doesn’t work out?”

“Obviously, why do you think I’ve spent so long here in the Earth Kingdom?”

Katara’s heart jammed into her throat the minute those words left her mouth—if only it had happened sooner, maybe it would have stopped her from saying such a dumb fucking thing. Zuko looked equally surprised and just swallowed roughly.

“That…was not funny in the slightest,” she remarked awkwardly.

He rubbed his forehead and gave a breathy laugh that was really just a sharp exhale. “We are terrible at this.” 

She did not deserve him being gracious enough to shrug off her idiotic comment.

“ _So_ terrible,” she muttered. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he said. “Talking to you is…” He seemed to lose focus and trailed off by clearing his throat.

“I-I feel the same,” she said. 

“You don’t even know what I was going to say,” he replied.

She shrugged. “Something nice?”

His lip curled up, but she decided she couldn’t look at his mouth for long. “Yeah,” he said.

She didn’t deserve to hear nice things, probably, and he shouldn’t freely give them if it would go nowhere. She was paralyzed by silence again and Zuko reached over to pour her another cup of tea.

She nodded in thanks, and they sipped quietly for a while—not necessarily in the content silence they were used to, but close enough, considering how badly she missed him. She sat cradling her cup between her palms, the warmth seeping across her fingers. She wished they were his hands, but they couldn’t be, not here. 

The light across the table melted to gold as it started to fade. People filtered out of the shop and soon the wisps of steam from her tea evaporated, cup now cold to the touch.

Iroh strode back over to them eventually, practically beaming—the normally jovial old man looked far more devious than usual. She wondered if Zuko had spoken to him about what happened.

“Katara, I hope you enjoyed the tea.”

“Wonderful as always,” she said with a smile. 

He looked between both of them. “I need a small favor.”

“How can we help?” she asked, while Zuko looked immediately suspicious.

“I would be so grateful if you’d close up the shop tonight,” he said, wrinkled hands clasped together. 

Zuko raised a brow. “Somewhere to be, Uncle?”

“I have a date,” he said brightly. 

“A _date_?”

Iroh turned to him. “Yes, nephew, perhaps you’ve heard of them, perhaps you’d like to take Katara on one-,”

“Oh, alright, alright,” he interjected gruffly with a wave of his hand. 

Katara chuckled. “You walked straight into that one.”

Zuko glowered at her before looking back at his uncle. “Why would you need _us_ to close the shop? Don’t you have employees?”

“We’re short staffed today,” he explained, and she didn’t believe him, and neither did Zuko based on the withering look he gave.

“Katara has more important things to do-,”

“No, no, I don’t mind,” she assured them.

Zuko relented. “Fine,” he said. “Just—don’t stay out too late, and don’t walk too far. You’re not getting any younger, you know.”

“I am young at heart,” Iroh replied, then began fishing through his apron. “Here’s the key.”

Zuko grudgingly accepted it and watched as his uncle hustled back through the green curtain to deposit his tray.

“I doubt he even has a date,” he muttered. 

“He’s quite the social butterfly,” Katara said. “Lately he’s been seeing this flower vendor down the road. They play Pai Sho together.”

Zuko drained the last of his tea. “Have you been coming a lot, while you’ve been here?”

“Pretty much every afternoon,” she replied. “Best tea in the Earth Kingdom, you know.”

Zuko absently rotated his cup in a circle with his fingers. “Thank you, Katara. For visiting him. I—worry sometimes, I guess. Miss him.”

“I’m happy to,” Katara said, then hesitated. “I—didn’t talk to him, about us. He gives good advice, but he’s your uncle and I wanted you to be able to—well, confide in him, if you wanted to. He may suspect something, though.”

Zuko snorted. “Oh, yes, he suspects, relentlessly encourages. He’s worse than Toph.”

“I don’t see how that’s possible,” she said. 

“He sent me fertility tea, Katara.”

She choked on the last drags of her drink, liquid inelegantly dribbling down her chin as a fractured laugh left her. “He did not.”

Zuko nodded. “Not even the kind that _prevents_ pregnancy, he sent the kind that’s supposed to somehow _help_ because he says that its high-time you and I have children.”

She found herself blushing, despite the absurdity, and put her cup down. “We’re not even _married_.”

“Oh he’d very much like that to happen, too. He’s not picky.”

Katara gave another chuckle and shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know, it’s kind of sweet. He just wants you to be happy.”

“I’d be happy if he minded his own business,” he grumbled, then stood. “Let me get everyone out of here so we can clean up-,”

“Be nice,” she said absently.

“I used to work here, you know,” he replied indignantly.

Katara grinned. “Yes, but somehow I suspect Iroh was the one handling customer service at the time.”

“I was very polite and nice!” he snapped.

She quirked an eyebrow. “Clearly.”

“How could you-,” He stopped himself and dissolved into a frustrated grunt, which was good because otherwise she would have teased him relentlessly. He stalked off to the still occupied tables while she laughed.

While Zuko ushered the straggling customers out of the shop, Katara found a tray and began loading up the discarded kettles and cups. She heard the door click shut as the light through the windows dimmed further from the setting sun.

“You really don’t have to help,” he remarked as he turned from the door. “You can head to the palace before it gets too dark.”

She rested the half-full tray against her hip. “You know I think I can handle myself in the upper ring at night.”

He raised one hand. “I know, I know. But you’re busy.” 

“Come on, it’ll be like old times,” she said. “The good old times, not the bad old times.”

Zuko just gave a soft smile at that—sometimes she could see guilt flicker in those amber eyes at the mention of their past, but he was no longer racked with regret like he used to be. Or he hid it better.

“That’s really only our time at Ember Island,” he said.

“Exactly,” Katara replied, sliding her second hand under her tray since it was getting heavy. “You and I doing dishes, while Toph and Aang somehow managed to find every fragile thing in the house and break it.”

He just smiled wider and shook his head, while she gathered all the remaining dishes in the main room and carefully carried her load to the back through the curtain.

They’d amassed quite a pile of saucers, cups and teapots to wash. Katara plucked an apron from the hooks on the wall en route to the sink and tied it around her to keep her robes from getting wet. She turned on the tap and began scrubbing away.

She heard the rustle of the curtain as Zuko slipped in the room. The cadence of her scrubbing slowed unintentionally—she had just turned over in her mind that they were alone, _really_ alone, and it was frankly a toss-up what happened in situations like that but somehow she knew it would be a disaster. 

He walked over and stopped beside her. “You don’t use your bending?”

Truthfully, she was having trouble focusing with him around and didn’t want to break any of Iroh’s tea cups. She couldn’t _say_ that, so she just shrugged.

“More therapeutic this way.”

He picked up a rag and stationed himself beside her. “I can dry for you.”

“Thanks.”

They continued on in silence for a few moments, other than the splashing of the water as she cleaned. A curtain of hair had fallen over her shoulder as she worked, so she only saw him in the moments she passed him something and even then she tried to keep her eyes on her next piece of dishware.

It didn’t feel—electric when their fingers brushed. Over the years they’d hugged and joined hands and touched so many times it was just…comforting. She missed the feeling of his arms around her and the times he picked her straight off the ground and squeezed too tight.

She knew she had to speak first, knew she was the one most off-put by this awful silence because he was waiting for an answer from _her_. Some explanation to her panicked behavior.

“I wasn’t avoiding you, I _needed_ to be in Yu Dao,” she said abruptly.

Zuko was accepting a cup from her and paused. “What?”

“It is so important,” Katara insisted. “You have to understand how—how much it _matters_ -,”

“I’m not mad,” he said.

She sighed and looked down. She could feel little soap bubbles bursting against her hands as strings of suds dripped back down into the sink.

“I have been thinking about it.”

Something tickled her ear, and then she felt her hair being pushed back over her shoulder. She risked a look at him. She only saw softness and understanding in his face and for some reason she wanted to throttle him.

“I know you have,” he said simply.

She almost didn’t recognize her voice—it sounded reedy, hesitant. “I just couldn’t come back to you empty-handed, a-and I wanted to do my _job_ -,”

His arm fell to his side. “I want that, too. I understand.” 

She clenched her fists so tight she felt her shoulder blades flex—it was involuntary, she couldn’t articulate her frustration, just knew his softness was grating her because he was giving her everything and she was just _taking it_ and it made her _awful_ —

Suddenly this cold and sharp harshness came spitting out of her like a spear—all too familiar and always simmering, waiting for her worst moments.

“Spirits, don’t you have any _else_ to say other than _its okay_?” She flung her hand out and he leaned back to narrowly miss her wild gesturing. “Because it’s not—it’s _not_ and you don’t have to be so— _sad_ and _placid_ about it!”

He was confused by her outburst, withdrawing from her side with his brow raised.

“I’m not the one making this decision so difficult,” he said incredulously.

“You are making it _impossible_ ,” she hissed, jerking towards him.

He frowned. “Impossible to do what? Say no?” he demanded, then jabbed his finger into his own chest. “It’s _my_ fault that you feel bad turning me down? Because you can’t fix whatever the hell is wrong in your brain that makes you literally _incapable_ of doing something that _you_ want to if someone _else_ might be hurt by it?”

“Is that what you want? You want to be hurt?” she snapped.

“I want us to be put out of our fucking misery!” he shot back, voice harsh. 

She recoiled—it was stupid, so stupid, he was the _opposite_ of placid and sad now, but fat tears were welling up in her eyes anyway, started by the stuttering breath that left her in the silence after he spoke. 

He made an exasperated sound seeing her. “No, come on, don’t-,” He looked utterly helpless and turned to rest his hands on the counter, shoulders high, dark hair falling forward to obscure his eyes. “I—didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t,” she said quickly. “I never wanted this to hurt you, and it clearly has. I should be sorry. I-I am.”

A sigh left him. “I should be patient—I can _be_ patient. I said that I-,” He rubbed his forehead. “I meant to be…”

“It’s my fault,” she said. “You have been so supportive and wonderful-,”

He only gave a disbelieving grunt.

“No, really, you have,” she insisted, inching towards him. “That’s what makes it impossible because I’m…”

 _So deeply in love with you I can hardly stand it._

She really shouldn’t, his shoulders were so tense, she thought she might break him, but her fingers gently brushed across his back.

“I have been talking myself in circles and Suki and Sokka in circles and I—want to talk to you,” she said.

There were a few beats of silence between them, then his head dropped more before he pulled himself off the counter to face her. Her hand dropped to her side.

“That’s all I want too,” he said hoarsely. 

She longed to reach for him and bury herself in his chest, but didn’t, just let a relieved breath leave her. Her torso twisted back to the sink and she reached for a small saucer, thumbing the smooth edge before she dropped it in the water.

He walked back over to her, she could feel his heat beside her. He wordlessly accepted the saucer from her when she passed it to him.

“Zuko, I…” She trailed off and chewed on her lip for a moment. “I believe that I can still be part of my tribe if I’m Fire Lady and that you will do everything in your power to help me do that-,”

“I will,” he said immediately. 

She flexed her fingers—they were pruney and red from the hot water. “And I believe that politically-speaking if I stay in the Fire Nation long enough people _will_ respect me even though I’m not who they expected to be your wife-,”

He said nothing, just nodded faintly as his throat bobbed. Maybe it was the word wife that scared him. 

She tapped her fingernail in a nervous tattoo against the plate in her hand. “But—I _hated_ being called the Avatar’s girl, and I am _not_ going to be your girl either. I did not leave him to turn around and be some party-planning _heir-maker_ for the _Fire Nation_ just because of my—feelings for you.”

“That’s not what I want,” he insisted. 

She waved her hand, water splattering onto her apron. “I can’t _tolerate_ being Fire Lady just so we can be together,” she said. “I have to want things in my life and pursue them, regardless of—romantic emotions for boys. I don’t want to build my life on a _boy_. Even if it’s you.”

“I know.”

She began scrubbing with vigor. “It’s—so _rigid_ ,” she said. “You. Fire Nation. Fire Lady. There’s—that’s it. Being with you is-,” She stopped what she was doing and sighed. “It’s everything, it’s all consuming.”

“I’m sorry,” he said softly. 

She set the clean plate on the edge of the sink, frowning. “You never asked to be Fire Lord.”

He stared at the counter with his lips pursed. “I wish it were different,” he said. “Katara, I wish…”

“I don’t,” she said. “You’re doing important things.”

“So are you.”

He was breaking her open, wide open—didn’t he know that? He slotted so perfectly into the hole in her heart because he saw her and what she wanted and would give it to her, give anything, for her to be happy.

Katara clenched her jaw tight; she felt like her teeth might crack, that she might, from her spine down to her knees. She swallowed roughly. 

“Won’t you tell me what you think?” she asked. “About all this.” 

Zuko shook his head. “I’m not going to tell you what’s best for you.”

“Well why do you want it, then?” she asked, turning to face him, one hip against the counter. “You care about the Fire Nation, you want what’s best for it-,”

“You _are_ what’s best for it,” he said sharply. 

“You’re biased,” she muttered. 

His lips pursed again, arms crossing over his chest and knuckles white as they gripped his arms. 

“What—do you want, Katara?” he asked, all in one breath, traces of frustration and tension in his brow again. “I’m not asking for this because it’s easy, none of it is _easy_ -,”

She had twisted back to the sink, reaching for a cup that was bobbing in the murky water to get back work, but she quickly lost motivation and just squeezed it tight to her chest. “I-I know that-,”

He didn’t touch her but stepped closer—intense, he was so _intense_. “Not everything will go our way, but that doesn’t mean I’ll ever stop fighting for you,” he said. “I love you. I want you to be my partner, I want to share this privilege a-and burden with you…”

There was a sudden tightness in her throat, warm prickling behind her eyelids—she didn’t want to cry over this anymore and dropped her chin to hide it. She wanted to be his partner, too. Wanted to take on the world like they took on Azula because he’d asked her _first_ all those years ago and she had been so glad and determined and had never felt happier than when she was beside him.

Katara clenched the cup against her chest so hard it popped out of her hands, slippery, clattering on the edge of the counter and then smashing into big bits on the floor. She staggered back in surprise.

“Shit-,” She fell on one knee. “Spirits, I’m sorry-,”

He quickly followed her. “No, it’s okay, I upset you-,”

Katara had to stop, she felt—faint, like her heart might stop, and she leaned with her palm flat on the smooth floor. He couldn’t even bear to _look_ at her and gathered up the jagged shards between them.

She _wanted_ it. She wanted him. She didn’t know what that made her, she didn’t know if it would work, but she didn’t want to leave the Fire Nation and what she had done. What she could _still do_.

“I do love you, Zuko,” she said. “For whatever it—means now.”

He had the broken cup pieces rested in his palms. “It means everything to me.”

Katara stood on shaky legs, using the counter to pull herself up. He joined her and carefully deposited the pieces of the cup she’d broken in a neat pile off to the side. 

She reached out and gently touched his arm so he’d face her. His expression was uncertain, but he met her gaze, she was melting under those eyes and gripped his sleeve tighter. Words started falling out of her mouth that she hadn’t even _thought_ about but maybe she needed that.

“I want to—be with you. All it entails. I-I want to be Fire Lady, and you think that will be good but I am going to make your life _so_ difficult because I have a _lot_ of ideas-,”

He was searching her face while she spoke, like he couldn’t believe her, before he surged forward and caged her face in his hands to pull their mouths together, swallowing the rest of her words. He pinned her against the counter with his hips and his chest and she only managed to bury one hand in the back of his tunic at his waist before he pulled away, but still he’d kissed her breathless.

He was smiling so happily it _hurt_.

“You’re serious?” he asked hoarsely.

“If the offer still stands,” she said.

His breath skimmed her cheek, heavy, warm, eyes darker, glinting with intensity again. “Always, Katara.”

It was better he had pushed her up against the counter because her knees went weak and she tightened her fingers in his shirt. She felt a line of water trickle down the back of her ear to her neck and realized his hands were still wet from all their dish washing.

“You got soap in my hair,” she whispered, a smile tugging at her lip. 

Instead of apologizing he kissed her again, tenderly, and she pushed up onto her toes to give herself more purchase when he tilted his head. He slid one arm around her waist to hold her against him, the fingers on his other hand wrapped around the tiny strip of countertop in front of the sink.

For all her complaining about her hair, she raked her fingers through his even though they were just as wet. It was longer than she remembered, softer—spirits, she _adored_ it and fisted it in her hand when he opened his mouth and did all the things she hadn’t allowed herself to think of when they were apart.

There was apparently a door at the back of the shop whose existence only became known to her when she heard a rattling sound and then footsteps, and it was far, _far_ too late by the time Zuko froze and whirled around at the sound.

Iroh, of course, at the threshold of his own damn tea shop, brows high on his creased forehead as Zuko let out a few heavy breaths. For once, Katara wished Toph was there to earthbend a hole in the ground that would swallow her.

“Uh-,” Zuko cleared his throat. “Sorry, Uncle, we were—we were just…”

She bashfully gestured to the sink when Zuko ran out of steam.

“Washing the dishes?” she volunteered weakly.

Iroh paused for a moment—it felt like an _eternity_ —before he nodded thoughtfully. “You know I don’t remember him doing the dishes like that when he worked here before.”

 _Spirits, just kill me_ , Katara thought, which apparently Zuko could commiserate with because he groaned and buried his face in his hands. She quickly and awkwardly used the rag at her shoulder to wipe the water off her face—she could feel her blood pulsing through her cheeks and lamented how flushed she was, though Zuko comparatively with his pale skin was just a sheet of scarlet. 

“I-I should leave you two,” Katara said. “I’m sure you’d like some quality—family time and all that.”

“Oh but you’re family too,” Iroh replied. “Maybe even someday you’ll be-,”

“ _Uncle_ ,” Zuko interjected exasperatedly, and Katara’s mortification had receded enough for her to smile and shake her head.

Still, she could not possibly handle another second of Iroh’s smug and _infinitely_ pleased expression, so she hastily untied her apron and bundled it on the counter.

“I’ll see you back at the palace,” she said to Zuko, then turned to Iroh and clasped her hands in front of her. “Thank you for the tea, Iroh.”

“I don’t really think you can get away with _not_ calling me uncle now,” he remarked with a wry smile. 

She literally felt like she could choke from the embarrassment and knew her blush must have risen even to her temples. She supposed she should be thankful Iroh was only teasing, he could have been mad seeing his nephew pinning some girl against the sink with his tongue down her throat.

“Goodnight, Uncle, then,” she managed to say, then her eyes flicked beside her. “Zuko.”

He met her gaze for a moment, clearly trying to suppress a smile, and she felt her heart thumping all over again, but he did not reach for her as she slipped past him. 

She pushed through the curtain to the front of the shop—it was dark now, flickering yellow light from lanterns casting her shadow on the wall. She heard Iroh’s raspy whisper as she reached the door.

“Did you give her the tea, nephew?”

“ _Of course not!_ ” Zuko hissed in reply, clearly mortified, so she spared him further embarrassment and muffled her laugh as she slipped through the door. 

She returned to the palace with a smile and slept the best she had in months.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you as always for your continued support!!


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no conception of time anymore, but if this chapter was a longer wait than usual, I apologize! 
> 
> Little warning that the dialogue in this chapter gets the tiniest bit fresh.

Zuko did not come by Katara’s room the night he returned from Uncle’s tea shop, even though as she slid into bed she was a bit—jangly, restless, wondering if he would appear to finish what was interrupted. Part of her hoped so, but then another doubted it would happen. The responsible (disappointing) course of action was to act _maturely_ and _discretely_ since the Fire Lord couldn’t exactly be spotted coming and going from her bedroom after midnight without arousing suspicion. 

So Katara woke up the next morning, undisturbed, and slipped into blue robes for a slew of formal meetings with only a diminishing sliver of time to see Zuko, who of course was also trapped in his formal regalia and could only smile in greeting when he met her in the palace gardens. 

She smiled back, but it was too wide and embarrassing and she had to stop herself from throwing her arms around him.

“I’m sorry about Uncle last night,” he said sheepishly in greeting. “I promise the _meddling_ will significantly decrease.”

“Well yeah, he got what he wanted,” she said with a chuckle.

His cheeks went scarlet. “I guess so,” he said, then raised his hand to his neck. “So are you—I mean, do you think that…”

Katara usually did him a kindness and finished his sentences for him when he scrambled for words, but this time she merely stared up at him with a placid smile, waiting.

He dropped his hand and gestured awkwardly between them. “It’s just you know after last night, should—are we, um…”

“Are we…what?” she asked, brows raised.

Zuko groaned and buried his face in his hands. “Spare me, please.”

Katara laughed and wrapped both hands around the crook of his elbow before leading him down the garden path with her.

“Sokka calls it _together_ together,” she said. 

“That’s the same word,” he replied incredulously. 

“Oh I know,” she said. Her hand slid across the long sleeve of his robe, then suddenly felt nothing, except _his_ warm hand hanging there, and an intense desire to lace their fingers together raced through her, but she stopped herself. 

Instead she looked up at him from where she was positioned near his shoulder. “What you mean to ask is if we’re in a relationship,” she said. “And we are. Or I’m your girlfriend, as June would like to put it.”

“That woman was impressively astute if you think about it,” he remarked.

“I hope we aren’t that transparent now,” she replied, and he glanced down at her, their joined arms, and she flushed red and hastily untangled herself.

“Are you concerned?” he asked, expression inscrutable. 

Katara gave a sigh and moved to sit on a bench nestled near a wisteria plant clinging to the last of its spring blooms. Zuko settled beside her, close, and she clasped her hands in her lap.

“It’s probably better if we’re discrete,” she admitted. 

He was quiet and she pivoted so her knees were butting against his.

“It’s awful, but your personal life isn’t your own, and me being on your council is such a _massive_ conflict of interest-,”

Zuko rubbed his brow. “I know, I know. They would be…”

“Literally outraged,” she finished. “You’re supposed to be impartial.”

“I _am_ impartial,” he insisted.

Katara shook her head. “No one will take your word for it.” 

An exasperated sound left him. “If anything they should be outraged at me,” he said. “I’m the one who’s-,”

Katara scoffed. “Zuko, when _you_ fuck someone you’re a young man _sowing his oats_. When _I_ do it, I’m the Water Tribe whore.”

“Don’t say that,” he snapped immediately. “You’re not—I won’t let them-,”

She reached out and put her hand on his sleeve. “Trust me, I hate it too.”

“If you’re Fire Lady, it won’t matter-,”

“It will matter,” she said. “We can’t strong arm things, you know that.”

He frowned slightly. “You don’t deserve this.”

“You’re the one who said it wouldn’t be easy,” she pointed out.

“I just wish…” Zuko dropped his face into one hand. “I’m sorry. I’m being an idiot,” he muttered, then lifted his gaze to her. “This is—all I’ve wanted. It makes me deliriously happy. Please don’t think it doesn’t.”

She had to let go of him, otherwise she’d fall into him completely, hearth clenched and lungs suddenly sapped of oxygen.

“Me too,” she said.

He gave a soft smile and then lifted his hand and placed it on her knee. She didn’t jerk her leg away, in fact she relished the warmth and the gooseflesh on her arms, but still gave him a slightly warning look.

“Zuko. _Fire Lord_ Zuko.”

He snorted and moved his hand. “Using my title to deter public affection now?”

“It worked,” she said with a smirk.

His expression was naturally more serious, brow puckered. “How—careful do you want to be?” 

Katara leaned back and sighed. “Dai already has it in his head that I’ll be Fire Lady. He _tolerates_ me, but if the others thought that, I think we’d have a problem.”

“How could he already suspect something?” Zuko asked.

“I don’t know, but we should avoid giving anyone _else_ that idea,” she said. 

His lips pursed, disappointed. “Of course, Katara.”

She was quiet for a few beats, worrying her lower lip. “You’re upset.”

“No, no,” he insisted, hand at his temple though stopping short of his hair. “I agree on discretion, I just hate the reasons. You shouldn’t have to endure this.”

“I promise I’m okay,” she assured him. “And I’d tell you if I wasn’t.”

He shifted, eyes finding hers, golden like the early morning light around them.

She could not match his gaze for long without the hold on her self-control hopelessly fraying. She nudged his shoulder. “If we’re agreed on _secret_ , save those longing stares of yours for when we’re alone, Fire Lord.”

A smile finally curled his lip. “I’ll try.”

Katara scooted to face forward and survey the garden—it was quiet except the babbling of a fountain nearby, the rustle of leaves. Alone enough, maybe. Spirits, she was feeling far too tempted just because the length of his arm was pressed against hers. 

“I want—to do a lot more than _stare_ at you when we’re alone,” she remarked, heart racing from her boldness. 

She felt him stiffen and tried not to laugh as his eyes flicked to her and then back in front of them.

“Me, um, too,” he said, a delicate pink creeping up those regal cheekbones. 

She should not get so much satisfaction seeing him squirm, but it was too adorable to resist. She slid her arm along the back of the bench, resting her cheek in her hand, close to his ear.

“Well, what _do_ you want to do to me, Zuko?” she whispered.

He swiveled to her with his brow deeply furrowed. “Are you trying to kill me?”

Katara gave a sharp laugh, the sound ringing through the garden, throwing back her head before muffling it with her hand.

“I’m serious!” he insisted, unable to keep a smile from his face. “I’m supposed to sit in a bunch of dumb meetings all day with you—when I’m-,”

She didn’t know why, but she found the thought of the Fire Lord having such impure thoughts while they were discussing import tariffs hilarious and laughed harder.

He huffed indignantly. “Oh, so my—my-,”

“Sexual frustration?”

“-is funny to you?” 

She held her hand in front of her face and brought her thumb and pointer finger very close together.

“A little.”

He slumped back against the bench with his arms crossed. “I’m so glad you’re entertained,” he said sarcastically.

She watched his pouting profile—his _handsome_ , pouting profile that literally made her heart ache so much it was embarrassing. Her arm was still rested along the bench behind him, near the nape of his neck, and she inched her fingers forward to skim the inside of his collar.

“Katara. _Master_ Katara,” he said pointedly, and she retracted her hand and rested it back against her cheek.

“Maybe the secrecy will be thrilling,” she said, though her breath after was defeated. “Or the lack of scrutiny anyway.” 

He turned to her, far too close, their robes overlapping, but she otherwise couldn’t feel him, which was probably for the best since the intensity of his gaze was paralyzing her. “All I care about is that we're together,” he said.

That did a _lot_ to her, all over, and she pushed her hair behind her ear on one side. “I agree,” she said, then sighed as she looked back at the palace towering over the spread of green around them. “And as much as I would like to sit here and listen to you say more nice things, we should go. People will notice if you’re late for our meetings.”

He smiled ruefully and stood from the bench, briefly offering his hand to help her stand. It was warm and large and strong and she held on too long when she was upright before letting go. 

They started down the path back to the palace—he still walked beside her, close, and she cut a look at him after a few moments because she could see him staring out of the corner of her eye.

“We talked about longing stares, Fire Lord,” she remarked.

He was trying to suppress a smile. “We’re still practically alone.”

The path they were on was nestled among the lush gardens, but she could _definitely_ see people traversing the open hallways of the palace further away.

“Not nearly alone enough for those _other things_ we were talking about,” she replied, eyes glinting. “Though you never told me what you wanted anyway.” 

She was _really_ poking the platypus bear, as it were, since she and Zuko had officially been together for _maybe_ twelve hours and she was whispering in his ear and skirting around all the randy things she had thought about when he hadn’t shown up last night. She didn't really think she could be blamed--she was twenty and he was stupidly handsome, it was only natural. Though he was probably being scared off by her boldness. 

Instead of stammering or staring scandalized at her, Katara felt his hand press into the small of her back and before she could throw a warning look in his direction, he was leaning closer with his lips near her ear, breath ghosting across her skin.

“I want to fuck you as many times as you’ll let me,” he whispered.

Her own breath caught in her throat, but as much as his words sent her insides squirming, she was stunned at his _nerve_ saying that to her in _public_ where she couldn’t even _do_ anything about it. She whirled around and thwacked him across the chest with the back of her forearm.

“Spirits, _Zuko_ -,”

A laugh left him as he staggered slightly, a wonderful, raspy laugh and she almost smacked him again before he raised his arms to defend himself.

“Not fun to be teased, is it?” he asked with an obnoxiously smug expression.

She couldn’t help that she laughed too, though she moved to swat at him again. “Insufferable jerkbender.”

He caught her wrist, but didn’t yank her against him like she wanted. Still, he was smiling and it felt bright as the sun now high above their heads. “You know I love you.”

She smiled back, but broke from his grasp. “If only my _brother_ could hear the way you’re talking to me-,”

The color drained from his face, good eye widening, and her triumphant expression dissolved into more shuddering laughter.

“Alright, alright, you win,” he said exasperatedly. “Just please don’t _actually_ tell Sokka-,” 

Katara dragged him down the path with a snort. “I was kidding, Zuko. You seemed _very_ familiar with the concept a few moments ago when you were saying dirty things to me.”

He blushed now, his streak of audacity fading—frankly she hoped he was being serious about what he said (and then some), but it was hardly the time to admit it because they’d crossed the garden and were within earshot of some no doubt prying nobles.

“Think you can behave for the rest of the day, Your Highness?” she asked.

He ducked his head slightly. “Will I see you again tonight?”

“I’m sure we’ll have plenty to talk about,” she replied.

Zuko straightened and cleared his throat. “Until then, Master Katara.”

She stopped, now in the hallway, intending to head in the opposite direction from him since she really may not be able to behave.

“Fire Lord Zuko.”

It may have looked like a purely professional exchange between colleagues if she wasn’t smiling like an idiot as she walked away.

====

It was supremely embarrassing, but everyone noticed how good of a mood Zuko was in after his night with Katara. He almost resented it because he wasn’t exactly humming and prancing down the hallways like some gleeful, besotted idiot, but apparently even deigning to _smile_ in quiet moments was somehow damning evidence of his lack of brooding.

Suki and Toph, he expected, given the Kyoshi Warrior’s observation skills and the latter’s utter lack of respect for anyone’s privacy, but when he passed Sokka in the hallway that morning after seeing Katara, Zuko inclined his head in greeting, said _good morning, Sokka_ and was rewarded in turn with an aghast look and a shove in the side. 

Zuko stumbled sideways and his arms fell out of his sleeves. “Hey, _ow_ -,”

“What did you do with my sister?” Sokka demanded exasperatedly.

He pivoted on his heel with an indignant look. “Nothing!” he insisted, voice an octave higher than he would have preferred. “I mean—not _nothing_ , but why are you _interrogating_ me all of the sudden?”

He made a disgusted sound. “ _Good morning, Sokka_?” he repeated clinically. “You’re gloating! You may as well be skipping down the hallway clicking your heels because you hooked up with my little sister!”

Zuko helplessly threw his hands out. “You assume this because I _greeted_ you?”

Sokka corralled closer to him. “For someone who has said, and I quote, ‘ _I’m never happy_ ,’ all this-,” He gestured to Zuko’s face, presumably because he’d had the audacity to smile in addition to his greeting. “-is suspicious.”

Zuko shook his head and tried to side-step him. “You—should talk to Katara.”

Sokka stepped in parallel, preventing him from escaping down the hallway.

“Why would I talk to her when I can vaguely threaten you?”

“It doesn’t sound like it will be vague at all,” Zuko muttered.

“Hey don’t get cute with me, buddy,” he ordered, frowning, but it was all bluster. “I know _all_ about what you and my sister are up to you, I know you mysteriously disappeared last night-,”

“I’m not denying it,” he countered. “I do—I mean, we are—you know-,”

Sokka raised a hand to silence him. “Spirits, spare me the details. I know what you two are. Hence why I’ve decided to intimidate you like a big brother is _obligated_ to do-,”

“Go ahead, then,” Zuko said with a long-suffering sigh.

“I would love to, but you see, the problem with threatening bodily harm against you is-,” Sokka rubbed the spot between his eyebrows. “Don’t repeat this, but I’m pretty sure even if you and I _teamed up_ , we still couldn’t take Katara-,”

He tried to conceal a smirk. “No, probably not.”

Sokka seemed to have been emptied of his righteous fury and dropped his hand. “And I can’t say I’m _unhappy_ about this development, necessarily.”

“That’s your threat?” Zuko asked.

A sharp breath left him. “I don’t know. I used to be really up in arms about the guys in the South Pole who—you know, _ogled_ at Katara. But you’ve been a pretty okay person for a few years now, so if I _had_ to tolerate someone dating my sister-,” He gestured dismissively in his direction. “-a dumb jerkbender like you isn’t so bad.”

“Very touching, Sokka,” he said, smiling slightly. “Thank you.” 

Sokka narrowed his eyes. “Though to be _crystal_ clear, any talk about girls or—you know, _girl-adjacent_ things is now _completely_ off-limits. We may have talked about Mai, but-,”

“I get it.”

He gave a quick nod, and Zuko thought he was free, but then Sokka’s eyes snapped back over to him. “It is—serious, right?” he asked, lips pursued slightly. “Katara was all tied up in knots about being _Fire Lady_ and if you’re just telling her that now with no intention to actually keep your promise-,”

“Of course not,” Zuko said immediately.

Sokka put a finger in his face that he assumed was supposed to be threatening. “Because _then_ I would—I would-,” He lost steam and his jabbing weakened as his eyes flitted away. “Damn, I should have thought about this.”

Sokka resumed his glare after not coming up with anything. “Whatever it is, it will _hurt_ and you will _not_ have a good time.”

Zuko had been uncomfortable but generally amused by this conversation, but intensity suddenly gripped him, a flare of indignation, even, that anyone could fathom that he would do anything to hurt Katara when he adored her like he did. 

“I love your sister,” he said. “I would do anything for her.”

Sokka clearly sensed his intensity as their eyes locked—they were quiet for a moment before a grunt left him.

“Well this backfired, now I’m incredibly grossed out-,”

Zuko resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Consider it payback for what _you_ subjected me to when it comes to your relationship.” 

“Oh please it was one _time_ -,”

“Once was plenty,” he grumbled.

Sokka prodded him down the hallway with his arm. “Try to mask your obvious jealously for my romantic prowess,” he said. “And come on, let’s find something to eat. I’m starving.”

Zuko was 100% confident Sokka had already eaten breakfast but acquiesced anyway, trailing behind him as he started down the quiet hallway.

After a few moments, Sokka abruptly snapped his fingers and then pointed at him. “I’ll beat you to a pulp with the blunt side of your swords.”

Zuko furrowed his brow and glanced over at him. “What?”

He tapped his temple. “The threats, they’re coming in hot now.”

Zuko just rolled his eyes and returned his hands to his sleeves as they continued walking.

Sokka was not deterred. He made his voice purposefully gravelly, as if that was somehow scarier. “If you hurt Katara, I won’t kill you, I’ll just make you wish you were dead.”

Zuko made a non-committal sound. “Hm, pretty vague.”

“I will rip your spine out and choke you with it.”

“You know I thought of that one too.”

“How about, I’ll punch you so hard in the mouth you’ll shit your teeth?”

“That sounds—literally impossible.”

They were close to the main banquet room when Suki appeared from around a corner—she paused when she saw them and then changed direction with a smile.

“Hey, you two. What’s up?”

Sokka offered an arm to her and she slipped her hand through it. “I’m thinking of threats now that Zuko is shacking up with Katara,” he explained as they resumed their walk. 

Zuko frowned. “We’re not-,”

Suki ignored him and excitedly clapped her hands. “Oh, can I try?”

“Be my guest,” Sokka said, while Zuko gave a scoff.

Suki surprised Zuko by stopping abruptly and reaching for him. Her nimble fingers bunched up his robes and hauled him over to her. She was smiling with her teeth as she spoke very softly to him.

“Zuko, if you hurt Katara-,” She pulled him closer, voice sweetening. “I will break you.” 

It was the delivery, really. Simple, fierce, unequivocal. Speaking with same certainty that made the sun rise in the mornings.

He swallowed roughly. “Uh…” 

There was a beat of silence before Sokka snorted. “Holy shit that was terrifying,” he said, then gave Suki a congratulatory pat. “Awesome job, honey!”

“Thanks,” she replied brightly, the menacing pall gone from her expression like a switch. She released Zuko and soothed over the wrinkles in his robes.

“I was only kidding,” she assured Zuko with a giggle, probably noticing his slightly shaken expression. “We’re both _really_ happy for you.”

“Thanks, Suki,” he said with a small smile. “Could I interest you in coming back to the Fire Nation and threatening some people for me?”

“Hey, mine were good too,” Sokka interjected, whine in his voice unmistakable.

Suki affectionately patted his arm, while she and Zuko exchanged a knowing look that forced him to muffle a laugh by pretending to cough.

They reached a suite of rooms filled with other delegates that necessitated slightly more formal behavior, or at least an end to them trading threats about the Fire Lord, and a start to meetings and negotiations that were far less entertaining than his morning had been. 

Zuko was impossibly distracted most of the day, not even just because of all the ridiculous things Katara whispered to him earlier. He tried to go easy on himself—yes, the summit was important, but a few hours in the Jasmine Dragon with Katara had suddenly become quite pivotal for him, if she didn’t change her mind. He’d been treading water for months—actually, years, if he was being honest, because he never once indulged the Fire Sages no matter how desperately they pleaded with him to be willing to find someone, and he knew he’d have to marry eventually, but maybe he’d always hoped it would be her.

Now it could be. Eventually, anyways, which made him feel numb and tingly and warm all over like some sentimental idiot. She didn’t want this _soon_ , neither would the Fire Sages, and he rather desperately needed to stop fantasizing about it since they’d kissed a grand total of four times.

Her concern about discretion was—completely reasonable. Rational. She endured enough criticism being close to him at all, their romantic relationship being undeniable fact would undermine her credibility even more. She wasn’t _just_ in the Fire Nation to be his girlfriend, and he would never, ever fathom diminishing her ability to do her job for the sake of public affection.

The day, like all others, ended, sun sinking behind the palace and casting the white stone in a golden glow from the torches and lanterns. He was in his room after their far too formal dinner, jittery, heart beating fast for some silly reason, as if he hadn’t seen Katara just that morning, or for several hours throughout the day.

He had changed out of his robes when someone knocked—he opened the door, and Katara was there, smiling, and he would have grabbed her by the waist and crushed her against him if his guards weren’t in the hallway. 

She was holding two scrolls against her chest with one hand. “Wrote up some things I’d like you to read,” she remarked, lip twisted in a half smile.

He stepped aside. “Come in,” he said, and was very proud of himself that his voice didn’t crack. 

She passed him, close, maybe on purpose since he hadn’t moved much. Her hair was slightly damp and smelled like her favorite citrus soap.

Zuko couldn’t handle it a second longer. The door clicked shut behind her, and he caught her by the wrist with his other hand and dragged her back to him. She stumbled a little, but found his lips, giving a content hum against him, her free arm raising to hook around his neck.

He fumbled for the lock on the door and then tried to untangle her grip on the scrolls in her hands. She made a noise of protest and broke their kiss.

“Wait, these are actually important,” she said with a laugh.

“They weren’t a flimsy excuse to see me?” he asked, settling one hand on the dip of her waist.

“Maybe a little,” she admitted as a petal pink blush flooded her cheeks. “I’ve been thinking about you all day.”

Probably not thinking about him nearly as inappropriately as he thought about her, but still it sent him spiraling, and he would have probably stammered out something incoherent, if she hadn’t broken eye contact and twisted to put her scrolls on the table behind her. 

The movement exposed the long line of her neck as her hair fell away across her back. _Don’t_ , he thought, _do not_ , and then he pressed his mouth to the spot under her jaw anyway, trailing down until he reached the ribbon on her necklace, feeling her pulse thrumming under her skin. He wondered if she’d chastise him for risking leaving a mark on her, but a small sigh left her instead, and he heard the scrolls clatter against the table before she melted back into him.

“We can talk about them later,” she said with breathy laugh, as his nose skimmed back up to her jaw. She clenched the fabric of his tunic as a shiver ran through her. 

He was emboldened and gathered her against him, pressing harder, dragging his teeth across the spot that he’d last kissed her— another more desperate sigh left her.

“ _Much_ later,” she muttered and then grabbed the hair at the nape of his neck to pull him back into an open-mouthed kiss that was passionate and insistent and _perfect_.

Her hand slid down into the opening of his tunic—she would set his skin on fire with her touch if he wasn’t already completely burning from the inside out. He wrapped his arms all the way around her, pressed into every inch of her, as if he could devour her, which is all he’d thought about that day. 

His thoughts were wandering, to stupid questions, doubt—he and Mai hadn’t exactly been spontaneous, and that was the only person he’d been with. When they were together, she would eat dinner with him, ask for tea in his sitting room, they would go to his bedroom instead and—well, that was that. The life of being Fire Lord, honestly. He didn’t have time in his schedule for frantic trysts, nor that much privacy given he was constantly surrounded by advisors, guards or servants.

He had no idea what Katara even wanted. She said filthy things to tease him, but it wouldn’t exactly be gallant to tear her clothes off because of that. Things were all rather serious (and wonderful), but her agreeing to be Fire Lady _eventually_ didn’t mean she wanted to fuck him right this second. It occurred to him he didn’t even know if she’d done that before. 

As he’d gone to take a jagged breath, he pulled back further, and she instinctively pursued him, until she opened her eyes and fell back on the ball of her heels with a crease in her brow.

“I’m sorry about what I said,” he blurted out, chest pressing to hers as he caught his breath.

“What?”

“E-Earlier—this morning, about, um…” He trailed off, too embarrassed to even repeat himself.

She raised an eyebrow. “Why are you sorry?” she asked. “You don’t want to fuck me?”

Zuko choked on his words before they came out. “No!” he insisted sharply. “No, I just—I shouldn’t have-,”

Katara tightened her arms around his neck, pulling their faces closer. “Shouldn’t have answered the question that _I_ asked you?”

He splayed his palms across her back so he could support her weight better while she pushed up onto her toes.

“So…it was okay?”

She shook her head. “No, it was infuriating—you can’t tease me like that, I was distracted all day.”

“You started it,” he murmured, too close to her to speak in a normal tone.

“And you interrupted it now,” she replied. “Could we resume what we were doing or would you like to apologize more for being attracted to me?”

He clearly needed to shut up and keep kissing her—the way her hand pushed over his cheek and into his hair was short-circuiting his brain anyway.

“You’re the worst,” he added in a whisper before closing the scant space between them, pressing his mouth against her. Katara gave a soft moan into his kiss and he weakened hearing the sound, grateful he could press them into the wall behind her. 

She had changed out of her formal robes into her simple blue dress, and he ran his hands over her ribs onto her hips, then back up to the spot where he assumed after far, _far_ too much contemplation during the day that he could tug the dress open. 

As he felt Katara yanking more firmly at his tunic, there was a loud rapping at the door, and she started to pull away. He gave a small hum. “Ignore it,” he said breathlessly, and tried to kiss her again. Before he could, the door _rattled_ , like someone was trying to pry it open.

They both turned, confused, before Zuko scowled.

“Go away!” he snapped angrily.

“It’s Toph,” a voice said, and he couldn’t help that a frustrated huff left him.

“And Suki!”

Katara covered her mouth to stifle a laugh, as if she found it entertaining that an entire _crowd_ of people was on the other side of the door ensuring that he could not get five stupid, uninterrupted minutes to lavish affection on her.

“We’re looking for Katara,” Toph finished.

“Well why the hell would you come to my room?” he demanded.

“Is…that a trick question?”

Another giggle from Katara, and Zuko glared at her.

“She’s not here,” he insisted.

“I can hear your heartbeats, dumbass.”

Zuko’s scowl deepened and he untangled himself from Katara to wrench open the door.

“What do you want?” he ground out.

Toph was very close to the threshold with Suki behind her.

“Nice clavicle,” Suki remarked, and he gave an annoyed grunt and straightened his tunic from where Katara had shoved her hands into it.

Toph marched past Zuko into the room. She was holding a bottle of wine and spoke before he could protest to her entry.

“Suki and Sokka are leaving tomorrow, and we’re going to all hang out,” she announced. “I don’t care that you’ve been pairing off like a bunch of assholes.”

Suki followed her. “Sokka went to find Aang, so you’re welcome for that.”

Zuko made an exasperated sound. “We weren’t-,”

“Aang doesn’t know,” Katara blurted out, and the three of them turned to look at her, Toph and Suki already settled on the couch.

Zuko’s expression was probably the most alarmed, and he swallowed before shutting his mouth. Obviously it had occurred to him that his choice to be with Katara was complicated for reasons beyond him being Fire Lord. Aang had not just pined desperately for Katara, he _dated_ her. For almost a year. And sure he’d been a child at the time, but clearly something in him saw it as serious and meaningful and _fated_. In fact a year ago, when he wasn’t so young, he tried again. What would he say now, knowing Katara had thrown her lot with his best friend? 

Just one more fucking disaster in waiting.

“Probably a good call on that one, Sugar Queen,” Toph remarked since Zuko had been rendered silent.

Suki sighed beside her. “Aang’s an adult now, surely he’ll-,”

Toph turned and gestured with one hand. “Be _super cool_ that Zuko is fucking his ex-girlfriend?”

Zuko frowned. “For the _last time_ , Toph, we are _not_ -,”

Katara interjected over him, apparently not outraged by Toph’s accusation. “The point is he can’t find out here, in front of everyone. That’s not fair.”

“But you are going to tell him?” Suki asked.

She seemed slightly shaken by that, which was frankly his reaction, too. Aang was a kind and forgiving person, but even a hint of discord was not ideal at the summit given he was the _Avatar_ and Zuko kind of needed him on a political level for pretty much everything and didn’t want to jeopardize that or their friendship.

Katara ran her hand through her hair. “We are—I mean, _Zuko_ and I are going to talk about it,” she began. “Until then, can we please just—keep it quiet?”

Toph flopped back against the couch. “Works for me. I love secrets.”

Katara huffed and crossed her arms, but said nothing. Zuko hated to see her face pinched with concern and put his arm around her shoulder to give her a soft squeeze. She leaned into him and he nestled his nose in her hair.

Toph made a disgusted sound while she looked over at Suki. “They’re doing something gross, aren’t they?”

“ _You_ are the one who barged into _my_ bedroom,” Zuko said exasperatedly.

Katara wiggled from his hold anyway, likely because she knew Aang and Sokka could arrive any minute. Arms still crossed, she walked over to the couch and settled beside Suki, who scooted closer to her so they were leaned against one another. Katara’s stiff posture deflated and she gave Suki a weak smile.

The door opened soon after, Sokka and Aang appearing with snacks, Momo chittering and hopping between their shoulders. Zuko felt a pang of nostalgia and clung to it, remembering the times when life was uncomplicated and he wasn’t burdened with the mantle of Fire Lord. 

He settled beside Toph while the others sat down—she punched him, and he threatened to hit her back one of these days, which he knew he was never going to do, and she did, too, so she just cackled. He saw Katara smiling at the exchange, and though nostalgic for the times years ago when they’d all been together, he really couldn’t think of anything better than being with her now.

====

Katara lingered on the pretense of work when everyone shuffled out hours later, snickering given the copious amount of wine consumed—no one really batted an eye at her staying behind, except Toph who wiggled her eyebrows suggestively and earned a glare from Zuko. It wasn’t a terribly convincing reason to stay since it was the middle of the night and that wasn’t a logical time to start work after several glasses of wine, so he doubted Katara would stay long. Maybe enough to lament the tangled mess that was now their friendships.

The door clicked shut behind the others, though the tense silence remained. Katara was standing by the table and nearly empty wine bottles. She drained her glass and then set it down hard. “You know, the good news is I don’t think this can get _more_ complicated.”

Zuko walked over and snaked his arms around her back. She willing folded into him, tucking her head into his shoulder. He pressed his lips into her hair and felt a sigh move through her chest. 

“You think I never should have dated him,” she muttered. “I should have let him down gently and then maybe it wouldn’t—be so stupid and difficult.”

He tightened his hold on her. “No, Katara, your relationship was—it was important.”

“I should have told you _right_ after the war that I-,” She shook her head against him. “Spirits, I don’t know. I thought you were kind and wonderful and cute. It was just—so fast, and I thought…” 

He knew what she thought. It’s what he told himself. That the pressure and the impending doom glossed over complications and intensified attachment. That when it was over, he’d just be that boy who betrayed her and who she then tolerated for the sake of their mission, not the boy whose comfort and company she sought out over anyone else’s. What could he have known, then, about love? When he’d been offered so little in his life and arguably owed it to _Mai_ , if anything, not a woman whose basic civility to him was far more than he deserved.

He leaned back to draw her face up to his, one hand cupping her cheek. “I should have told you that I took Azula’s lightning because I loved you.”

She did not shrink under the intensity of his words, and her hand crawled up to his chest to the spot that was his tether to her, the raw, unflinching truth etched into his skin proclaiming what he once could not. She seemed to know without even searching where to trace her fingers over the puckered scar tissue hidden by his tunic.

“I don’t think you realized then,” she said faintly.

“I do now.”

Katara surged forward and kissed him, lips warm, tinged with wine, and he held her face as she deepened it, her palm now flat over his chest on his scar. This was not his plan, not at _all_ , and before he lost himself to any desperate scrabbling, he pulled away and rested his forehead against hers.

Her lip curled up slightly. “Sorry,” she murmured. “You want to have a conversation.” 

“You’re hard to resist,” he whispered back.

Katara nestled her head on his shoulder, a breath leaving her that sent her sagging further into him.

“Aang—said a lot of really promising things a few months ago,” she said hoarsely. “About me and him moving on.”

He _despised_ the question on the tip of his tongue that escaped through clenched teeth. “If you asked, would he take you back?”

She tensed in his arms, unable to meet his gaze. “Probably,” she muttered. “But he will find someone else. He will. And it won’t be like that anymore.” 

Zuko released her, eyes downcast. He didn’t know why he asked questions he knew had awful answers. Guilt had been a constant companion for him over the years, for his own actions and on behalf of the Fire Nation and the evil it wrought. It screamed at him, once, but years of tireless work had dulled it to a faint hum.

It was roaring back now because of his selfishness. Aang had never left him behind, from the start. He was dogged in his belief that they could be friends, no matter how strained and unlikely Zuko’s choices made that prospect. And this is how Zuko repaid him?

Katara slumped on the table behind her, propping herself up halfway with her arms crossed. “We don’t have to tell him now,” she said. “The summit’s probably not the best place.”

“No, probably not,” Zuko said bitterly. He imagined taking Aang aside at lunch— _hey, buddy, I want to marry the woman that you called your soulmate, that okay? Cool, let’s get back to negotiating politics on a global scale._

“I really think he’d be okay,” she said, earnest, like she was trying to convince herself.

Zuko shook his head. “Just because he’s a forgiving person-,”

“There’s nothing to _forgive_ ,” she interjected, lips tightening. “I didn’t do anything _wrong_ for not loving him like he wanted, and I can _like_ whoever I want-,”

“I meant me,” he said guiltily.

Katara dropped her arms to her side. “You don’t need to be forgiven, you can’t help how you feel.”

“It’s a shitty thing to do to a friend,” he muttered.

She was quiet for a moment before straightening and scooting over to him. She held her hands out to him, palms open, and he took them.

“Listen, this summit has been—a _lot_ ,” she said. “And once we get back to the Fire Nation, there’s going to be even more to adjust to. Let’s…” She hesitated and shook her head. “Aang won’t _be_ in the capital with us anyway. We can figure out the right way to tell him.”

Delaying the inevitable, really, but that worked for him since he couldn’t fathom the conversation going _well_ , and they should at least give Aang the courtesy to run off without abandoning his duties at the summit to do it. 

“Okay,” he said. He lifted his head and seeing her uncertain expression, squeezed her hands. “I’m sorry, I’m being-,”

“No, no,” she said hastily. “I know it’s hard. My—relationship with Aang has been strained well before all this. It’s half the reason I was scared to start anything with _you_ because it can really ruin things when romance goes sideways. Yours hasn’t, you two have been….” 

Friends. Best friends. Another thing Aang thought was preordained because of Roku and Sozin, because they’d been through so much together and were supposed to spend their lives reshaping the world. He liked to think that Katara wouldn’t come between them, but if the narrative was flipped and Katara chose Aang over him, while Zuko loved her so desperately, he wouldn’t know how to live, much less watch them have the life he wanted with her.

Zuko didn’t know why he let himself drown in these thoughts, it did no good. The guilt crushed him into inaction before, but he’d made his choice. He would be with Katara and worship her and support her, no matter how angry anyone else got. He would rip his life to tatters for her, call it selfish, call it foolish, call it _love_ because that’s what it was.

He brought their interlocked hands to his chest. “You’re right,” he said. “We haven’t done anything wrong. It’ll be okay, with time.”

Katara looked relieved, which meant she was worried and he was an asshole, before she wrapped her arms around his waist. His consternation evaporated at her touch, and he cradled the back of her head with one hand, the other across her shoulders. 

“I love you,” he murmured. “So much.”

He didn’t really know if with time it would be okay—maybe it was broken, shattered forever and even if reassembled, the seams would be jagged and rough. It didn’t matter, as he held her like this, feeling her breath on his skin and her hair under his hands. It was worth it. More than worth it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope y'all enjoyed!


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No explicit content here, but another warning of a little more fresh dialogue/exposition and sex-positive Katara in this chapter.

There was something comforting to Katara about returning to the imposing, ornate chambers of the Fire Nation palace after so long away, surrounded by ornery old men (and Ming) fighting her for every inch. Really she was only nostalgic for it because they could gripe and grumble all they wanted, but Katara was making progress. In the harbor, on the international stage, even in the palace—it meant most days she was tired and stretched thin, but fulfilled.

Other things weren’t business as usual once she was back, like Zuko’s hands and mouth on her when no one was looking, his secret smiles, his earnest whispers that he _loved her_. All vast improvements to her previous life of endless pining, though not without its own complications.

It had always been weird seeing him in council meetings, even when they were best friends, because their regular ribbing and geniality had to be dispensed with, and he was always stoic and serious. She figured it may always be like that no matter their relationship, which at their first meeting back from the Earth Kingdom was a blessing since otherwise he’d be too distracting.

Katara had a rather large stack of papers bursting with issues to address as she settled in her seat at the far end of the room, but Dai as always spoke first, hands clasped on the table.

“I hate to make this our first order of business for the day, but given Great Sage Shyu’s latest...impassioned correspondence, I’d be remiss not to direct your attention to it, My Lord.”

Zuko frowned. “I can guess his concerns.”

Katara could too. She acutely felt the silence in the room like a physical thing, oppressing her, thought if she even so much as shifted in her chair, surely all eyes would be on her, accusing. The peasant who Zuko solemnly assured out of feelings of _love_ that she could be Fire Lady.

She brought her hands from the table onto her lap, burying them into the skirts of her dress. She lamented having to deal with this so soon, but the Fire Sages were _always_ whipped into a fervor following the summit, as Zuko turned another year older and commemorated another year of his reign with no wife or heirs to speak of.

It wasn’t _wholly_ unreasonable, as much as she’d like to roll her eyes at their fuming. The tolerable members of the royal family had been whittled to nothing as of late. If something happened to Zuko, Iroh could perhaps step in, but then what?

Not that Katara was particularly enamored with this system of divine right to rule, but a sudden power vacuum caused by a lack of suitable candidates would cause chaos and benefit no one.

Dai wasn’t looking at her when he replied to Zuko, which Katara counted as a small mercy given his prodding a few months ago.

“Given the summit and the anniversary of your coronation, the Fire Sages have renewed their pleas that you begin considering the future of the Fire Nation.”

“They may find it hard to believe, but I consider the future of the Fire Nation every day,” Zuko replied acridly. 

Ming crossed her arms. “If you want to placate them, just _try_.”

His eyes snapped over to her—he was in no mood, clearly. “I have more important things to do as Fire Lord then-,”

“Have _heirs_?” she finished with a raised brow.

“Then to sit in hours of meetings trying to evaluate the suitability of marriage prospects,” he finished coldly. 

Arata waved his hand in dismissal. “We can provide such evaluation and narrow it to a handful of candidates.”

Katara had begun to sweat, even under her lighter robes—there was something bizarre and jarring about sitting quietly listening to this. She’d been uncomfortable before because of her feelings for Zuko, but now she was _actively lying_ about something that everyone took far too seriously. Obviously it was worse for Zuko, as she just got to stew quietly while he endured quite the gauntlet fending off the pushiest among his advisers. 

“I don’t think that’s necessary,” Zuko replied.

Arata was barely concealing a scowl—the old man was set in his ways and clearly had little patience for Zuko’s resistance to getting married. It was a transaction to them, a political calculation that could net them benefits so long as they chose the right person. There was no point in delay.

“How _else_ exactly do you propose finding a Fire Lady?” Arata asked. “Do you think she’s just going to come knocking on the palace gates?”

Zuko was well into his reign and adept at wearing a frown like armor. It must have been something he was born with, or taught from a young age—how to appear rigid and severe. Cold, even.

But that expression dropped for a moment. She could see the twitch in his jaw, a slight tension in his shoulders. The question caught him off-guard. Not the question—the lack of answers that wouldn’t result in ridicule.

_How do you propose finding a Fire Lady?_

_I want to marry for love._

_I already found one_.

Not exactly cogent responses for a process that had been done a particular way for hundreds of years.

“I—I mean-,”

Katara’s eyes flew up to him, alarmed, but he had the sense not to look at her. Dread clenched her heart, her lungs, like it would swallow her—just when she thought she had it figured out, another complication trounced her.

Zuko stopped and composed himself before he spoke again.

“If the Fire Sages truly feel so strongly about it, I can begin meeting with candidates,” he said. 

His discomfort dawned on her then, why in a fraction of a single second he shot her an apologetic look as his other advisors scribbled furiously in their notes about the good news. He hadn’t wanted to agree to anything without speaking to her, perhaps underestimated just how far they’d have to go to keep things a secret like she wanted. They should have known he couldn’t do _nothing_ forever. 

Zuko’s admission seemed to satisfy the other council members, but also excite them because at least half the table pulled out scrolls which presumably _already_ contained their well-researched and personally beneficial selections.

Katara looked down at the table and blinked a few times. There was nothing to be jealous of, she didn’t think, since it sounded like he’d tacitly agreed to a few business meetings, not _dates_ with actual women—the Fire Sages could care less about the personal compatibility of these matches after all.

It was _necessary_ , even. This wasn’t a secret they were keeping for a few weeks. She’d intended to continue the ruse at least until she’d been on his council a year and until she could say with certainty that the Fire Nation was ready for a waterbending Fire Lady.

Or that _she_ was ready.

====

Katara departed the palace after the council meeting to tend to business around the harbor, which she normally did anyway, but especially that day, knowing how it would look if Zuko sought her out immediately, she figured it would be best to make herself scarce. 

After a few hours of productive work, she circled back to the capital for what she hoped looked like a friendly after-dinner conversation or at least business as usual. As she hiked back up to the palace, the sun disappeared behind the jagged rim of the caldera, sky tawny, like the trees changing color in the gardens.

On her first day back from the Earth Kingdom, Katara had learned that during her absence and following the dissipation of the threat formerly posed by the New Ozai Society, Zuko had revamped the rotations of the palace guards so that they were only posted outside his suite, rather than each room, which meant that he (or any, say, _guests_ of the Fire Lord) had more freedom to move around that wing of the palace without the absolutely mortifying prospect of slinking out of his bedroom in the evenings under the watchful gaze of two grown men in full armor. Leaving at all late at night wasn’t entirely innocuous, but it had been pretty remarkable foresight on Zuko’s part as Katara nodded politely to the guards and then slipped past the heavy doors leading to the Fire Lord’s wing. 

His bedroom was the last in the darkened hallway, and she could see yellow light flickering under the door and across the smooth floor.

She rapped lightly on the door as she opened it. Zuko was at his desk, but even before she crossed the threshold she heard him clamoring out of his chair. He was still wearing his robes, which meant whatever agonizing dinner he had probably ran late.

Zuko crossed the room to her—tall and imposing, but face twisted in concern. “Katara,” he said, almost breathlessly. “I messed up, didn’t I?”

She reached behind her to shut the door, brow furrowed. “No, of course not-,”

“I wanted to find you after, you weren’t in your office,” he said. 

“It’s probably better we talk here anyway,” she replied. 

He shifted and rubbed his forehead. “Katara, I _swear_ I didn’t mean to be such an idiot.” 

“Come on, you heard Dai,” she said with a weak wave of her hand. “The Fire Sages have been throwing a fit.”

He frowned. “I’m the Fire Lord, I don’t care how upset they are.”

She walked over to lean against his desk, one leg crossed over the other. “You’re twenty-two, Zuko, and they’re just asking you to _start_.”

Zuko followed her, fists clenched. “I don’t need to _start_ , I know I’m marrying you,” he retorted, then pulled up short as he seemed to realize how determinedly he spoke. “H-Hopefully. Eventually. I just-,”

Her joints turned to jelly at his words and she looked down, suppressing a smile. “They don’t know that, you’ll recall,” she said. “And I don’t blame them, if something happens to you, even if Iroh steps in, there’s no one else after. Think of the chaos that would cause.”

“I understand,” he replied petulantly.

She grabbed the crook of his elbow through his layers of clothes and lamented that he hadn’t changed. “No one is asking you to be a husband or a father anytime soon, they just want you to meet some women.”

“I don’t want to meet any women,” he grumbled. 

She gave a short laugh. “Would it help if I said you’ll probably scare them off given you’re not much of a conversationalist?”

“Not sure they care much about my personality,” he said with a snort. 

Katara tugged on him and he slumped against the desk, resting one arm behind her so he could lean close.

“Do you promise that you’re not upset?” he murmured.

She lightly dragged her fingers along his scalp to his headpiece, careful not to muss up his hair. His eyes fluttered shut and he leaned into her shoulder. “I trust you,” she said, then she dropped her hand. “I—maybe that’s not the right word. I believe you when you say that you want this.”

He leaned back, brow furrowed. “Of course I do,” he replied immediately. “Why would—do you doubt me?”

“I just told you the literal opposite of that, Zuko,” she said with an amused look.

“Yes, but-,” His eyes flicked away, searching the floor. “It’s not trust, it’s not _belief_ —it’s _fact_. It’s incontrovertible.” 

She hesitated, curling her hands around the edge of his desk. It was a substantial piece, made for the royal family generations ago and important for a million reasons that she’d forgotten. No doubt his advisors would balk to see her leaned so casually against it. They’d probably deride her for being in this room at all.

Katara bit her lip, suddenly second guessing the words at the tip of her tongue, though she’d never hid anything from him.

“It’s not fact. Not really,” she said after a few moments.

“Katara, I wouldn’t-,” He turned so he could look at her. “I _wouldn’t_.” 

“No, I know,” she insisted. “It’s just that you—could. Take it back, I guess. If you decide it’s not worth it. And my life would completely unravel and I couldn’t even _do_ anything about it…”

"Nothing will get in the way of your work,” he insisted.

Katara crossed her arms, eyes downcast. “I—couldn’t sit on your council and watch you marry someone else.”

He bristled. “I am never, _ever_ going to do that.” 

She stood and placed her hands on his chest. “I know, and I believe you,” she said gently. 

He was breathing too hard, lips pursed tight. “I’m going to tell the Fire Sages that under no uncertain terms are they to _ever_ bring this up again. I am the Fire Lord-,”

“That’s not the solution,” she replied. “Humoring them with a few meetings doesn’t bother me, and _refusing_ would be more headache than its worth.”

His hands had settled on her waist and she felt his grip tighten, pleading almost. “Let me prove to you that I mean it.”

“Zuko-,”

“I’ve blindsided you before,” he said, lips twisted into a bitter frown. “You trusted me and—and I-,” A dejected breath left him and he abruptly turned away, shoulders tense. No doubt back in that cave, shimmering green above their heads when her first attempt at trust forged hot and fast in the fires of loss was shattered.

Katara followed him. “I have good _reason_ to trust you now,” she insisted. 

He just scoffed, scowl even deeper. She didn’t know what to say. Maybe she shouldn’t have told him the truth of the matter, if he couldn’t handle it. He was frustrated about things they couldn’t change.

Yes, he had betrayed her once. And yes, it caused her pain, made her sick to her stomach in the days after, thinking of him standing there beside his sister spewing fire at her, wanting to _hurt her_. Succeeding at it.

Zuko was scared to let her rely on him again. It would be so easy for him, for the sake of his country, to decide some very pretty, very accomplished Fire Nation noble with deep coffers and a lifetime of training was a better choice of Fire Lady, no matter what he promised her in private. He wouldn’t, but being secretive meant he could. 

She had to trust him, like she did before. She’d done it freely then, when she hardly knew him, but she was old enough now to understand that she really wasn’t that old at all. To think at twenty that she had it all figured out.

He sighed so heavily his shoulders went slack, like his dread was threatening to pull him to the floor. She walked over to him, close, and fisted her hands so they hung in his robes.

“Don’t be upset,” she said. 

Zuko put his arm over her shoulders and rested his forehead against hers. “I would never leave you, Katara,” he said hoarsely. “Please.”

She was clenching her fists so hard in dark, heavy fabric they were starting to hurt. She released one and soothed her hand across his scar. “I know,” she whispered back.

They needed to be closer, much closer, and she wrapped an arm around his waist to pull them together, her face pressed against the hard surface of the armor on his shoulders. She wished she could put her hands through his stupid ceremonial clothes and feel his heart beating against her cheek. 

“I should have talked to you first,” he muttered. 

“They pinned you, I was there,” she said. “There’s really no _rational_ explanation for your resistance to them for all these years.”

“It’s not only my choice. I want you to feel like—this is real, even if we hide it.” 

She gave a wan smile. “Zuko, I’m not worried. You are taking a few business meetings with some over-bearing fathers or sitting in a heavily-supervised setting with women who are probably terrified of you-,”

He huffed. “I’m not _scary_ -,”

“Your _Fire Lord Zuko_ face is very intimidating-,” she said, then rested her other hand on his cheek, thumb tracing it when he gave her an offended look. “Not in a tyrant sort of way, you’re just very serious, you know.”

“It’s a waste of time,” he muttered. 

“It gives _us_ time,” she countered, then pulled them closer together. “I trust you, I believe you. I love you, okay?”

“I love you too,” he said, and then in the next second he kissed her. A good one, an insistent one, the desperation in his words suddenly trapped between their lips. She felt him yearning to prove his certainty in the force of his mouth and the swipe of his tongue, and she pushed back into him because she wanted him to know she believed it. 

A few seconds later Katara bumped backwards into the desk, clattering ink wells and scrolls. Her hands moved from his face to his hair, tugging on his top knot, prying his crown from its sacred place which was probably blasphemous and she may have accidentally hurt him since she didn’t have much practice tearing his Fire Lord trappings from him.

He didn’t seem to care if it hurt, just kissed her harder and ran his hand down her spine, stopping at the same place he always did, just before she could accuse him of anything at all improper. She found herself frustrated with his honor for entirely different reasons all the sudden. 

It was worse this time since she was running her hands over a stupid hammered piece of ceremonial metal and then layers on _layers_ of fabric instead of his firm chest. She was pulling indiscriminately and when that was going nowhere after a few minutes, she broke from him with a laugh.

“These are _ungodly_ , Zuko,” she said after a few breaths. “Are these meant to be chastity robes?”

He lip curled into a smile. “In a sense. I’m sure the Fire Sages would have a _lot_ to say about you trying to defile the Fire Lord’s virtue.”

Katara looped her arms around his neck, pushing her weight into him. “I think the Fire Sages have gotten enough wins today, don’t you?” she asked. “Enough to earn me a _little_ defiling?”

Zuko laughed so hard it sent tremors through them both. When he stopped he pressed his mouth to her cheek, feather light down to her jaw. “Katara…” He lifted his head and looked at her, noses brushing. “I don’t know if I’ve made this clear, but I want to do absolutely everything that you want to.”

She had a series of utterly filthy thoughts then, heat unspooling in her stomach and across her chest, and she almost ravenously kissed him in reply and threw caution to the wind before stopping herself. (And deciding to tease him instead.)

“ _Everything_?” she repeated with a raised brow, though her voice was huskier than she intended.

“Not more,” he added hastily. “Nothing, even, if you-,”

“Just want to tease you forever?”

Zuko was clearly resisting rolling his eyes and locked his arms together on her waist. “Yes, Katara, I would rather live a lifetime being teased by you than be with anyone else.”

“Be careful what you wish for,” she replied smartly.

Rather than telling her she was full of shit, he kissed her again, which is exactly what she wanted.

====

Katara somewhat regrettably had a lot in common with Sokka—he was her brother, after all, and to her chagrin, she secretly loved lists, made pretty dumb jokes, and was sometimes entirely full of hot air. She teased Zuko endlessly because seeing him red-faced and sputtering made her shake with laughter and then want to burst with glee when he rolled his eyes and smiled crookedly at her, but as far following _through_ on her numerous playful and salacious threats, she hadn’t quite found the courage.

She quite obviously wanted to run the entire romantic gamut with him. Sometimes she thought about it rather meaningfully and romantically, as an expression of their love or a joining of souls, and then other times, like when she encountered him half-naked and practicing firebending in the morning, she would have preferred just shoving the necessary clothing aside so he could fuck her against a wall.

There was surely a happy medium there, somewhere, that she knew they’d never, ever get to without her initiation because Zuko did not move a single inch past the invisible, very respectful lines he’d drawn for himself, no matter what he _said_ about the matter. Clearly he was just as full of shit as she was.

She wasn’t hesitating because she was inexperienced. She’d slept with a boy from the North Pole when she was eighteen; it was rather hurried and uneventful, and he was a petrified mess after since she was the daughter of the Chief and Sokka’s brother and thought bodily harm would come to him if they were found out (which was accurate). She’d comforted him enough to meet up three or four more times that month, but then he’d started eyeing her mother’s necklace and asking what she would do once she was engaged to a man and she summarily ended things. 

The whole affair came about because she decided that she’d rather just go ahead and forfeit her “innocence” because she was tired of being lectured about how _important_ it was, as if she derived her self-worth from it, or that it somehow made her more _valuable_ to a man. However it was quite an ordeal wrestling any information from the female elders in the tribe or the women who came from the North Pole—they were all tight-lipped, their sense of community apparently not extending to matters of sexual education because that was reserved for the sacred relationship between husband and wife, which Katara found _especially_ irritating since most women from the North Pole didn’t even _pick_ their husbands.

With Suki in the Fire Nation at the time, she was empty-handed when it came to how to responsibly conduct herself as an adult woman unafraid of being cursed by the spirits if she deigned to have sex for any reason other than to contribute to the growing population of the tribe. Eventually after some very discrete and careful prodding, she found a woman two years older than her willing to help her procure the tea that she’d literally never heard of in her _life_ that would prevent any—unwanted consequences to her choices.

 _All these men are idiots, and are not worth your time_ , she’d said. _So at least don't be stupid about it_. 

A few years later and Katara was empty-handed again. And as much as she’d like to jump head-first into all the things she teased Zuko about, they really couldn’t be careless or reckless.

Obviously the palace had everything she could ever need on that front—storerooms of tea of all kinds, including what would ensure her and Zuko’s political problems didn’t include bastard children. But frankly that seemed like a trap lying in wait since the gossiping servants no doubt would notice if the supply of that tea was dwindling, and if spirits forbid, _she_ was seen absconding with it.

As an alternative, she went rooting through the back room of Makoto’s tea shop early one morning, creeping down from the attic, but apparently he wasn’t a purveyor of _that_ kind of tea, which really only left her with getting it from Kaida, who kept such meticulous tabs on her inventory she would have to _ask_ directly and try not to melt into the floor. 

Kaida was organizing said inventory system like always when Katara stopped by one day after her return from the Earth Kingdom.

“Hey, good morning,” Katara said, stopping beside the woman after making her way through the maze of cots from the front door. 

Greeting ignored, Kaida inspected a clumsily sprawled label on a glass bottle.

“Got a line of patients coming in today, hope you’re well-rested.”

Katara twisted her clasped hands together. “I am,” she said. “But I was hoping before, I could—ask a favor?”

“With friends like yours, never thought you’d need _my_ help,” she replied dismissively, still not looking at her. 

Katara shuffled closer, ducking her head in the hopes of avoiding the eyes of any curious onlookers. “It’s—um-,” She cleared her throat. “I need something.”

Kaida stopped and quirked a brow. “Is it social skills?”

“No,” she replied with a glare. “That’s not—I need, um, tea.” 

She gestured behind them. “Does this look like a tea shop to you? Have you forgotten that you live above one?”

“Not _that_ kind of tea, I need-,” She leaned even closer, voice hardly a whisper. “-medicinal tea.”

“Oh, _medicinal_ tea,” Kaida repeated, eyes glinting. “Do you have a headache? Joint pain?”

Katara rested her fists on her hips while giving a huff. “Oh for spirit’s sake, you know what I _mean_ ,” she hissed, then furrowed her brow. “I don’t—exactly know where to look and it seems largely unavailable-,”

Kaida snorted. “Yes, the Fire Sages make sure of that. For the purity of the Fire Nation women, of course.”

“Well—can you help me?” she asked. 

Kaida gave her an appraising look, dragging out the silence, before she turned without a word. She rummaged through a chest nearby before she returned with a little black sack that fit in the palm of her hand.

“It’s expensive,” Kaida remarked. 

Of course it was. Katara made a mental note to talk to Zuko or the council at some point about more accessible contraceptive options for women in the Fire Nation and then braced herself for the scandalized gasps and accusations of being a _loose Water Tribe woman_.

She extended her hand for it. “You know I can pay you.”

Kaida pulled away at the last minute, lips pursed. “Who’s it for?”

“Me?” 

“And?”

“None of your business.” 

“Will you tell me if I guess?”

“No.”

“Because I only have one. Guess, that is.”

She should have known this wouldn’t be a simple exchange of goods and instead was an interrogation. A frustrated grunt escaped her lips. “It’s exactly who you think it is,” she said crossly. 

“I knew you seemed in a good mood since you got back,” Kaida replied with a smug look.

Katara, thinking she was free of this awkwardness, reached to snatch the bag out of her hands. 

Kaida dodged her, brow raised. “Hold on. Are you sure you want to do this?” she asked.

Katara leaned back and gave a short laugh. “I’m sorry, are you trying to look out for me?”

She frowned slightly. “You know how this looks,” she said. “You think his predecessors didn’t do this? Find pretty girls in secret-,”

“It’s _not_ like that,” Katara replied sharply. 

“So he’ll marry you then?” Kaida shot back.

“Yes,” she snapped, jaw set mulishly. 

Kaida was quiet then, pinning her with calculating brown eyes. She finally placed the sachet in Katara’s open palm.

“I suppose I can’t deny the Fire Lady, then.”

She stiffened. “You can’t tell-,”

“Yeah, I know,” Kaida interjected, dismissive again. “Frankly, I don’t care enough about your business to repeat it.”

Katara clenched her fingers around the bag and shoved it furtively into her pocket. “Thank you,” she muttered. 

An annoyed sigh left her and Kaida crossed her arms. “I’m not trying to be harsh.”

That was as close to an apology as she would probably ever get, though after living her whole life in the Fire Nation, Kaida really couldn’t be blamed for expressing doubt that the Fire Lord would willingly promise himself to a peasant from the Southern Water Tribe. Katara’s eyes were downcast.

“I know it seems—crazy, but-,” She was blushing, stupidly. “I love him, and this is where I want to be.”

“He’s lucky, then.”

She blinked rapidly a few times and looked up. “That’s—the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

Kaida scoffed. “Don’t get used to it,” she replied. “I’m only sucking up to you now that I know you’ll really be able to pull some strings someday.” She gestured to her hand. “You owe me after all.”

“I won’t forget,” Katara said with a grin.

Kaida just rolled her eyes and walked away, and Katara tried not to think about the bag practically burning a hole in her pocket for the rest of the day. 

====

Zuko hadn’t meant to stop at her office—it really wasn’t a place he found himself often because it only gave the weak façade of privacy. A room with a door, but it’s not as if they could lock it and suddenly deny the flurry of messengers running to and fro from her office for any justifiable reason.

Still sometimes he couldn’t help but stop and peek inside knowing she was there, and she only halfheartedly chastised him when he appeared without much of a viable excuse anyway. This time when he swung open the door she was standing in front of her desk, thumbing the edge of a piece of parchment and chewing on her lip. Her hair was unbound, dark waves past her shoulders, and he tried not to think about wanting to bury his hands in it and kiss her senseless.

“Hey, Katara, everything alright?” Zuko asked instead—her look of concern spared him from scrambling for a reason for his visit.

She was distracted for a beat before her eyes flicked up. “Oh yeah,” she said dismissively. “Gran Gran just had a little accident.”

He stepped inside further and shut the door. “Is she alright?” 

“She fell,” Katara said. “We have healers down from the North, so she’s okay, I just…”

A weak shrug punctuated her sentence. He knew her enough to see the concern even under her placid expression—she’d seen her family recently, but hadn’t been home for a while, and he knew she must miss it. Zuko rested both hands on her shoulders with a reassuring squeeze.

“You should go see her,” he said. “ _We_ should go.”

“ _We_?” she repeated incredulously—her disbelief was understandable. He didn’t exactly travel spontaneously as the Fire Lord, but he had reason to visit the South Pole anyway and maybe selfishly wanted more time with her than he got now. It had been almost six weeks and the backlog of work while he was at the summit made him wish he’d never answered the door for Toph and Suki the one night he had Katara to himself. His stomach twisted into knots thinking that there may be less prying eyes in the South Pole. 

“There’s been progress on the Southern Reconstruction Project, right?” he began, soothing some of her hair behind her ear. “Maybe it’s time for me to make another trip, it’s been almost two years.”

“I’d—love for you to come, of course-,”

“You can stay longer, but let me visit for at least a few days, if you’re comfortable,” he said.

A small smile crept onto her face. “That would be really nice.”

“I’ll get it all arranged then,” he said, and her smile brightened.

Zuko watched as she turned to leaf through the other letters on her desk. He cleared his throat.

“Have you—told your father about us?”

She paused and looked over her shoulder at him. “No, I haven’t,” she said. “Is that okay?”

“Should we?” he asked, hand at the back of his neck.

Katara hesitated. “I—I don’t know, Zuko, he’s not just my father, he’s the Chief of the Southern Water Tribe.” 

“Maybe it would be a good idea,” he said. 

“To tell him what exactly?”

“That I intend to marry you.”

A pretty blush flooded her cheeks and she looked down. “You know the consequences of that are—more serious telling him. If you don’t end up-,”

“Exactly,” Zuko interjected. “If I change my mind, he won’t be happy, it could be problematic for the Fire Nation’s relationship with-,”

Her eyes snapped up and she gave a huff. “Oh for spirit’s sake, stop trying to trap yourself because you’re afraid to let me trust you,” she said. 

He would like to think that was an astute observation, but he’d been clearly rattled after agreeing to placate the Fire Sages in their first meeting upon their return from Ba Sing Se, and it was hard to miss. It had been a brash thing to do, and Katara _agreed_ with it afterward, agreed with him lying, trusted him to hold all the cards and not betray her. He _wouldn’t_ , of course, but it was the point of not wanting to put her in that position at all. 

He made an exasperated sound. “Katara, _please_.”

She waved her hand. “This is all ridiculous and archaic anyway-,”

“I’m not asking for _permission_ , I’m just disclosing my intentions,” he insisted. “As a courtesy.”

“As _insurance_ ,” she countered with a pointed look.

He reached for her hand to pull her closer before he pressed his lips to a few of her knuckles. “Can you let me tell _one_ person how crazy I am about you?”

The flush in her cheeks darkened and she snatched her hand back. “Oh, do not be _charming_ right now-,”

He grinned. “Why? Is it working?” 

Katara playfully swatted at him and he trapped her in his arms, though he had to endure an elbow to the ribs as she squirmed and laughed. She settled against him eventually with a scoff.

“You don’t have to put yourself in this position for me,” she said.

“I want to. But I won’t tell him if you’re not sure,” he replied. 

She tightened her hold on him. “You know I am.”

Zuko rested his cheek against the top of her head—he wondered if she could feel his heart rate tick up, as he considered if it was stupid to _want_ to tell Katara’s father she was living in the Fire Nation for the foreseeable future.

“Is there a chance he’ll be upset?”

“I don’t think so,” she said after a few seconds of thought. “My father likes you. He’ll approve or he’ll go along with it, anyway—he never got the chance to be much of a father to me, I don't know why he'd start now. We don’t really have that kind of relationship.”

He felt her stiffen before he could reply, and she pulled back, brows drawn together. “Sorry, I, um—didn’t mean it like that. He _was_ a father to me, he was.”

His fingers brushed her cheek. “It’s alright, Katara.”

She did not react to his touch, just bit down on her lip again as her eyes settled on his chest. “It’s just—he left after Mom, and-,” She rubbed her face. “I don’t know, by the time I got over that, I was—all grown up. Way too soon because of the war, but he never really _parented_ me again, you know. I guess he thought I had it all figured out.” 

“I know he respects you a lot,” Zuko said. “Maybe he thinks that the best way to support you is to let you make your own choices without interference.”

Katara sighed. “I know that I’m stubborn and fiercely independent and-,”

“You pretty much do the exact _opposite_ of what anyone orders you to,” he finished, attempting levity, and a mirthless laugh left her, though her eyes were still downcast.

She quieted and absently fiddled with the edge of his robes. She hesitated before she spoke. “My mom gave _great_ advice,” she began. “She was—so confident and kind and I relied on her guidance a lot. I miss her the most now when I—I need advice and…”

She trailed off, eyes glassy and embarrassed, but he kept her close by bringing his hands to her face.

“Hey, I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m really sorry.”

“It’s stupid,” she muttered.

He gently coaxed one hand into her hair. “It’s not stupid. Not at all,” he said. “I’m literally the man I am today because of Uncle’s guidance. He parented the hell out of me. It annoyed me endlessly sometimes.”

She gave another watery laugh, and he gathered her against him so it was partially muffled in his robes.

“Thank you,” she said hoarsely after she sniffled.

“You okay?” he whispered in her hair.

She nodded hastily and stepped back from him. “Yeah, of course, I was—being silly-,”

“Katara.” 

“I’m fine,” she insisted, squeezing his hands. “Okay? So don’t think you’re getting away with showing up here for no reason at all.”

He ran his thumb across the back of her palm. “We’re going to the South Pole, that’s the reason.”

“You seized an opportunity, don’t pretend,” she said, and he was relieved to see a smile tug at her lip.

“Maybe,” he admitted. “You’re welcome for that, by the way.”

Her smile widened, flashing perfect white teeth against sun-kissed skin. His heart stuttered, and he realized he did not tell her how beautiful she was nearly enough, but the thought seized his attention and consumed all others so often she may get tired of hearing it. 

He kissed her instead and she threw him out of her office for the rest of the afternoon, still smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all have no idea how much each and every comment means to me, I so appreciate the support!


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Per usual this chapter got out of hand and even features a new character POV because I’m trash. 
> 
> The new rating is out of an abundance of caution, but the last scene is some (light) explicit content.

They didn’t make his parka right, Zuko realized, as he stood on the bow of the airship and felt frigid wind slice through him to the bone. It wasn’t catastrophic considering he could warm himself when needed, but he wondered how non-firebenders possibly managed since he felt frozen solid and it wasn’t even _winter_.

He heard the thump of metal behind him, footsteps, and Katara appeared, bundled up herself, not looking cold or miserable at all except for the pink tip of her nose.

“How can you stand this?” he asked incredulously in lieu of a greeting.

She tilted her head curiously. “This isn’t bad at all,” she said, then looked over at him. They were mostly alone, or at least the airship crew didn’t pay much mind to them, and she reached out and soothed her hand over the front of his gray parka.

“Your fine tailors in the Fire Nation may not know our winter wear secrets.”

“Possibly,” he admitted and then in the next second he shuddered when a gust of wind blasted past them. 

Katara gave him a comforting pat and then curled her hands around the railing to peer down. “It’s worse in the air,” she said. “I thought firebenders were impervious to the cold anyway.”

“We can just make ourselves warmer with effort,” he said.

There was a clunk and then a screeching sound behind them—Zuko had ridden around on airships enough to know they were beginning their descent, sinking into wispy white clouds. Their visibility was shot for a moment, encased in white, his stomach somersaulting from the feeling of falling even this slowly, before they broke the cloud line into the clear air above the harbor. 

“Wow,” Katara said immediately beside him. He figured he knew why. The harbor that was once an assortment of piddly docks now stretched along the coast, visible even from up high, filled with massive ships flying green, gold and red flags. 

“You alright?” he asked. 

She pulled her parka tighter around her. “Oh, no, I’m fine,” she said. “It’s just—really big. And busy.” She hastily shook her head. “I mean I’d seen the plans of course and heard reports but…”

“Isn’t that good?”

“Obviously, yeah,” she said, then cleared her throat. “Definitely.”

She was being polite, or lying, even; he knew she had strong opinions about all the changes here influenced by the North. Ultimately Katara wanted better goods and homes for the tribe, while not losing the sense of nostalgia and identity she had for the place she loved. It was a delicate if not impossible balance.

He looked at her as she leaned against the railing—he was likely to get reprimanded because she seemed to always know when he had what she called _that look_ in his eyes. She seemed distracted right now, though, so he could appreciate without interruption the little pucker in her lips and the line of her nose that he’d called adorable only to be summarily thwacked for using the word.

“Do you mind if I visit your grandmother at some point today?” he asked, if only to pull her back from wherever she was spiraling.

She turned, crossing her arms. “For what?”

“Not the—the thing-,”

“The _thing_?”

“Us, I meant,” he finished hurriedly. “I won’t tell her anything, I just wanted to, um, apologize-,”

“You already apologized the last time you were here,” she said mildly. 

He rubbed at his neck. “Well, yes, but—it’s different now-,”

“She forgave you, Zuko,” she said. “I promise there’s nothing more to worry about.” 

Katara had not been there during his visit, so he knew for a fact she was only placating him—not that the conversation had been a total disaster, but Kanna certainly hadn’t pinched his cheeks or told him what a nice boy he was and how happy she would be if he married her granddaughter.

He shook his head. “As a courtesy, maybe, because I was just some distant stranger at the time, but-,” The flush that had already blossomed across his cheeks deepened. “I thought given everything going on, I should—she should _like_ me.”

Katara leaned in and ran a hand across the sleeve of his parka, and he wished he could feel it. “I promise she does.”

“You’re just saying that,” he muttered. 

She nudged him, a fond but exasperated laugh leaving her. “Listen, if you want to talk to her again, I’m sure she’d like that.”

Zuko doubted it, but said nothing as they continued their descent.

When they finally landed near the harbor, their welcome was the warmest he ever received—because it wasn’t for him. Katara led the way out, happy to see her father, her brother, Suki, other villagers who gathered to say hello. Katara’s nerves from the airship seemed to evaporate, and she was beaming with each step further into the village. Beautiful, of course, basking in the energy of a place and people that adored her. (Thoughts then spiraled as they were wont to do—Katara, the last great hope of the Southern Water Tribe, in the _Fire Nation_ , in the arms of the _Fire Lord_ , who once had little regard for this village like his predecessors.)

He bit the inside of his cheek because he couldn’t clench his fists, until Katara’s eyes swung back, blue and brimming with joy and perfect, and he couldn’t help but smile back. Her happiness was infectious enough to make him forget his worries, at least for the moment. 

===

When Zuko last visited the South Pole to discuss the Southern Reconstruction Project, there were still a number of traditional igloos perched on the snow around the town hall, as the tribe was transitioning to the network of houses and canals that mimicked the Northern Water Tribe. Today only one remained, and it belonged to Katara’s grandmother, Kanna. She was set in her ways, which was clearly a family trait, but at least it made her easy to find among the maze of parkas and buildings in the now-flourishing village.

He stood nervously at the threshold of said igloo a few hours after their arrival, following the series of requisite meetings for a state visit such as this—it was warm in front of him, bitterly cold behind. Kanna's home was handsomely appointed inside, with a fire in the center and furs strewn throughout. She had an impressive set of whale-walrus tusks and other carved bones befitting her station as a tribe elder on the walls—she also had a section of less-impressively crafted figurines of which only Sokka could be the artist, though like any grandmother she displayed them proudly. She was sitting by the hearth, looking small and frail, mending a shirt, when he peeked inside.

“Uh—hello, again,” he said, by way of announcing himself. “You may not remember me—I’m Zuko. That’s me. Here.”

Kanna continued what she was doing, her blue eyes flicking up to him for only a moment.

“I know who you are.”

He tried not to be deterred—Katara’s grandmother had always been a tough customer. Shrewd. Endlessly loving to her grandchildren but otherwise stoic and hardened from living a life in a harsh climate and burdened by the effects of war (perpetuated by his father and grandfather, which was just _really_ convenient for his chances of being not actively hated by her).

“Right, of course,” Zuko said sheepishly, hand in his hair—he hadn’t pulled it up, had worn only his gray parka, trying not to appear imposing or haughty, though Kanna probably wouldn’t be intimidated anyway.

Zuko stood awkwardly on the other side of the fire, wishing he’d thought more about what to say. Wringing his hands wasn’t helping him come up with options.

“They a fan of long silences over in the Fire Nation?” Kanna eventually remarked, with a critical look.

“No, no—I’m sorry,” Zuko said hastily, flushing red. “I-I came here because I wanted to apologize. You may remember that the first time I visited more than five years ago I was not—kind. To you, specifically.”

Kanna lowered the tunic in her hand, eyes narrowed slightly. “I may be old, but I recall having this conversation with you before.”

He swallowed roughly. “That’s true, it’s just I am—very sorry for what happened,” he said. “I know that nothing I can do can make up for the damage the Fire Nation has done, but I just wanted to reiterate how much I regret it.”

She was quiet, apparently able to wield silence like a weapon because he felt like he was going to unravel into a million stammering pieces, before she gestured with one hand beside her.

“Sit.”

Zuko scrambled over too quickly in response, settling cross-legged in front of the fire a respectable distance away. His only thought was that he hoped she didn’t stab him with her needle.

“I can see you carry a heavy burden,” she said. “What you must atone for on behalf of an entire nation and what they expect of you in the future. I can’t condemn you for the sins of people you didn’t know or can’t control.”

He hadn’t worn mittens—his hands were the warmest part of him—and wove his fingers together in his lap to keep from fidgeting.

“You can blame me for what I did to you. Your grandchildren.”

“They both seem to have taken quite a liking to you,” Kanna replied. “Who I am to say they shouldn’t?”

Zuko blushed at that and hoped she didn’t notice it in the golden light from the fire. It was waning, and he gestured to it.

“Are you cold?” he asked. “I could, um…”

She looked at the pit herself, considering, before she nodded once. He stoked the flames with a wave of his hand, and she watched him, inscrutable, and he hoped he wasn’t fanning decades of bad memories.

Instead one brow rose up her creased forehead before she resumed sewing. Her movements were nimble despite her swollen knuckles and the slight tremor in her arms.

“Got any other skills?” she asked, then sounded amused with herself as she raised the tunic in her hand. “Can you mend a shirt?”

He let himself smile slightly. “I asked Katara to teach me many years ago, but I wasn’t very good and haven’t had much practice.”

Kanna just hummed thoughtfully, and he looked back at the fire and wondered whether he should make himself scarce. He should have thought of more to say. Brought her something. He didn’t want it to seem like he was trying to buy her forgiveness, though maybe that’s what he had done with the rest of the tribe anyway.

“You know, it used to be when one of our own was in the Fire Nation, it was a tragedy,” she said after a while. “A great loss.”

Zuko knew this, but for some reason Kanna saying it made his throat tight.

“I know,” he said hoarsely. “I’m sorry.”

“I think I’ve heard sorry enough,” she replied, and he almost moved to leave—her tone wasn’t harsh, but he was clearly accomplishing nothing. He was stupid to come here, as if she would smile sweetly and offer him sea prunes because he shuffled in mumbling that he didn’t mean it.

Kanna seemed to sense his distress and her eyes slid over to him. “It’s not true anymore, is it?” she began. “Katara seems happy enough in her letters.”

“I hope so,” he said. “I do everything I can to-,” He stopped and cleared his throat. “I mean, I think she is doing a lot of good for everyone and enjoys it.”

“Good for you?”

He suddenly felt a thousand degrees hotter, even sweating under his parka. “Uh—yes,” he stammered. “I mean, yeah, she’s—she helps me a lot. It’s her nature.”

Kanna pressed her lips together for a moment, scrutinizing him. “Are you busy?”

“I’m sure there’s nothing I can forgo should you need my help,” he said.

“Katara says you’re good with a knife.”

“Well, passably, I suppose-,”

She pulled her hood over her head and stood with great effort before wobbling past him. “Follow me.”

He was afraid to _not_ do what she asked, so he hurried after her out of the igloo and only hoped he didn’t make too much of a fool of himself.

====

The boy was painfully transparent. Kanna remembered meeting him—the second time—when he shuffled into her igloo offering a sheepish yet sincere apology, with a demeanor not really at all what she thought of for a _Fire Lord_ but exactly how a man not even twenty would act facing his myriad of mistakes. Truth be told, she’d sneered at it internally, but tried to be open-minded for the sake of her grandchildren and Hakoda, who said he acted bravely when they were imprisoned by the Fire Nation.

She did not have much compassion at the outset for an insolent and spoiled prince who thought he could demand whatever he wanted and roughhouse those who wouldn’t give it to him. It wasn’t special among men, that entitlement and anger, but it was destructive.

He apparently sought to better his ways, which wasn’t unreasonable given his age. He offered coin and apologies, was thoughtful and patient. Eventually she decided that she did not hate him and if her grandchildren wanted to be his friend, there were worse people to be around. (Or work with, as Katara decided she wanted to do.) 

Kanna had seen Katara and the Fire Lord on the canals before Katara left for the Fire Nation as ambassador. Her joints just weren’t what they used to be, and she’d stopped for a rest until her eyes were drawn to the stark contrast of black and red against the ice. 

He was a very stiff and serious boy, but familiar enough with Katara to let her put her mittens on his cheeks, his scar, and though he was clearly griping at being babied, he was blushing too, and when she let go he stared after her fondly. 

Kanna thought nothing of it at the time, but here the boy was again, after her previous tepid endorsement, and then, she knew. The Fire Lord had no business spending so much time around an old woman like herself, earnest for her approval. Unless he had a particular interest in someone who _did_ care for that approval. 

Kanna had never worried herself about boys when it came to Katara. It had consumed so much of her own life before in the North, it hardly seemed worth the attention now since it took all they could just to survive. There had been no one left in the tribe for Katara to even show interest in before the Avatar arrived, and then suddenly at fourteen she was flying off into the great big world, leaving her current life behind on _hope_.

She returned triumphant on the Avatar’s arm and then returned again better versed in heartbreak after learning what Kanna should have taught her: that she would never feel free pretending to love who everyone else wanted her to.

Now it seemed the _Fire Lord_ was after Katara’s favor. He was bold, that was for sure. 

Kanna decided if he wished for her approval, he could earn it. They hobbled out of her igloo together, followed by curious looks, or concerned ones, since no one could mind their own damn business since her fall. It was ice, and she was old, she’d rather slip again and pass on then spend years holed up in an igloo doing nothing. Still, she accepted his arm when the boy tentatively offered it.

It was a busy time in the village, as some of the men had returned from a successful hunt, and with little effort, she was able to secure one of the spoils for herself. She was too old now to be bashful and happily claimed to be the best in the tribe at skinning and preparing the animals they needed to survive. 

His eye had widened seeing the carcass she presented to him—perhaps he thought they’d be sewing—but he hauled it over his shoulder and carried it where she asked. He was strong and quite handsome, though so was that other boy Katara had wrapped around her little finger when she lived here and who she thought no one knew she took to bed. (And that one wasn't running the Fire Nation.) 

Kanna put a knife in the Fire Lord’s hand and he very diligently followed her instructions. She was purposely harsh a few times, but he never lost his temper (which even Sokka had done once or twice), would just clench his jaw and pause before continuing the gritty task. She heard no complaints about the blood all over his expensive tunic, though his pathetic gray parka was spared since he hadn’t worn it.

He was earnest to a fault, even when she was obviously ribbing him. Once they had the morning’s kill opened, she sliced off a piece of the liver and slapped it in his already bloody hand. She pointed across the snow—far, over some steep banks and rocks, to the ocean lapping against the ice, and instructed him to deposit the liver in order to make an offering to Sedna (which they only did at the start of a new season, but she assumed the Fire Lord wouldn’t know that). Without hesitation, he crossed the ice, trudging through fresh powder past his knees at some points and falling on his face once, before standing on the ledge and plopping the liver into the water. He watched it sink, waiting, as if the spirits would emerge from the deep and present a reward. When that didn’t happen, he gave a small bow and trekked all the way back. (It was hilarious at points. And surprisingly…heart-warming.) 

They spoke little, except for her direction, which seemed to suit him fine because he wasn’t a great conversationalist with her at the moment, given the searing secret he was so poorly hiding. Only when they finished their task did she ask what she already knew the answer to.

He had knelt down to clean his hands in the snow, staining the white a milky pink.

“I know you’re an important person,” she said. “So I won’t waste any more of your time. Except for one last question.”

He rose to his feet to face her, shoulders hunched, like he felt guilty for towering over her as she shrunk in her old age.

“I’m happy to answer any questions.”

“Good,” Kanna said. “Are you in love with my granddaughter?”

He stared at her blankly like she’d slapped him, flabbergasted. There was fear in his eyes, as they flicked frantically to his boots and back to her, all while she waited with a placid expression for him to tell the truth.

Eventually he opened his mouth, though the words were delayed.

“Y-You weren’t supposed to find out this way.”

“That wasn’t an answer,” she replied.

He swallowed thickly. “I do love her,” he said—the most certain he’d been in their entire conversation—but then blushed furiously. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—I only meant-,”

“Does she feel the same?”

His eyes fell back to the snow. “You’d have to ask her.”

Kanna assumed he wouldn’t have the audacity to speak to her if they were not well on the way to something serious. Maybe already there. She reminded herself that Katara was grown, no longer a little blue-eyed girl in a parka two sizes too large. She could make her own choices, no matter how difficult they may make her life.

“You don’t need my permission if that is what Katara wants,” she said.

“I understand,” he said, head bowed slightly. “However I would never presume to speak for what she wants.” 

Kana snorted. “Let’s not pretend that Katara has not already told you exactly that is.”

His flush deepened—she wondered if Fire Lords were supposed to show such sentiment—though said nothing. Perhaps he had some good sense after all. 

====

It was almost dark when they returned and not just because the sun set early this time of year. The village was lined with light, glowing yellow, especially along the canal. Kanna requested Zuko’s escort to her igloo, of which he obliged as he considered hurling himself into the icy water beside them to put himself out of his misery.

Kanna had asked if he loved Katara and he’d told her the _truth_. He’d stammered it, actually, which seemed to entertain her, but the reality of it was still nestled there. That the Fire Lord had fallen hopelessly for the last waterbender of the Southern Water Tribe. 

He considered lying, for a moment, but realized his mortification now would pale in comparison to the embarrassment of denying attraction only for Kanna to discover later (possibly the next day) that it was indeed the opposite.

So he endured the humiliation and hoped despite his struggle for the right words, his sincerity was apparent. It was the only thing he could count on, how deeply he loved Katara, while he fumbled to do things right and follow Kanna’s instructions and be anyone other than the man who wronged her.

Once Zuko returned Kanna home and prepared the fire for her, he left to find Katara in the center of the village. The new town hall sported a massive atrium with a dome of thinly-hammered glass that warmed the rooms during the day and framed the stars at night. He spotted Katara with Suki and Sokka around the fire where they’d agreed to meet.

Katara waved to him, and he smiled back, though it was tempered by the look of alarm that quickly overtook her face the closer he got. Sokka was beside her and merely quirked an eyebrow.

“Uh—Zuko?” he began. “Not sure if you’re aware, buddy, but you’ve—got a little blood on your tunic there.”

That was an understatement. His carving work and general inexperience made his chore with Gran Gran quite a messy affair—he hadn’t worn his parka at the time, so his light tunic was streaked with red. Not exactly a great look for a foreign dignitary but it had been dark anyway and he was planning to fasten his parka back up. 

Zuko looked down as if to remind himself of the damage. “Your Gran Gran and I did some, er, chores.”

The three were clearly trying to suppress snickers as he settled beside Katara.

“What kind of chores?” Suki asked. 

“She asked me if I was good with a knife,” he said, then rubbed at the crown of his head. “If I wanted to help make a _parka_.” He realized his face had probably gone a bit pale recalling the carnage. “We—we used the-,” He gestured to his stomach. “-the _guts_ and-,”

Katara leaned back with a smirk. “Oh, is our Fire Lord a bit squeamish? Can’t keep up with our Gran Gran?”

“I just thought we would—you know, sew some fabric!” he sputtered.

Sokka laughed. “And where do you think the fabric comes from?”

“Well I understand _now_ ,” he said with a huff, slumping back. He ran his hands over his face. “I think your Gran Gran hates me.”

“She was just—testing your mettle,” Katara said with a reassuring pat.

He doubted he met her expectations, but said nothing and crossed his arms.

Sokka began to gnash a piece of seal jerky between his teeth that he pulled from a bag, and then of course spoke at the same time.

“How did you end up talking to Gran Gran anyway?”

“Oh, well-,” Zuko cleared his throat. “I just wanted to apologize to her, you know, about what happened.”

Suki furrowed her brow. “Again?”

Suddenly there was too much blood in his face and he inched back a little from the fire to hide it. “I just wanted to make sure with, uh, everything going on…” 

Katara put her hand over his. “That was nice of you to do.”

“It was stupid is what it was,” Sokka said with a chuckle. 

Katara immediately glared at her brother. “Sokka-,” 

Zuko had leaned over to pinch the bridge of his nose. “He’s right, it was stupid,” he muttered. “She asked me point blank if I—you know, if you and I were…”

Katara eyes widened slightly in alarm, while Sokka slapped his knee, laughing harder. “Man what I would have given to be there for that.”

Katara thwacked Sokka on the arm. “We were going to tell her and Dad!”

“I promise I didn’t do anything to indicate my—my intentions,” Zuko insisted.

“Yeah, the _Fire Lord_ sucking up to little old ladies is not suspicious _at all_ ,” Suki said with a snort.

“Katara said I could go!” he protested. 

“It’s fine,” Katara assured him. “If she wanted to wait to talk to me, she would have. Clearly she wanted to hear from you.”

Suki rested her chin in her hands. “What did you tell her after she asked?”

Sokka immediately made a disgusted sound, which was pointedly ignored by the two women.

“I—I mean I wasn’t _prepared_ ,” he said. “I just admitted that I loved Katara and wanted whatever she did.”

“That’s not a bad answer,” Suki said.

He sighed. “Still she has every right to never like me.”

Sokka was really making his way through his seal jerky, Katara clearly irritated by his smacking. “Hey, so did I, but I haven’t had the urge to throw a boomerang at you in like—four whole months.”

“Is that a record?” he muttered and Sokka snorted, while Katara slid her arms around his shoulders and rubbed them.

“You need to stop worrying,” she said. “Maybe we can go somewhere and get your mind off things-,”

Sokka waved one hand. “Whoa, hold on, gross-,”

“Just shut up and eat your seal jerky, Sokka,” Suki said as she elbowed him in the ribs. 

Zuko had turned his head to look at Katara—he shouldn’t run off with her, he knew, even as she nudged him with a pleading look. It was bitterly cold and completely dark. His guards would wonder where he was or worse find out he’d skirted off alone with her.

Her eyes were glowing in the darkness, reflecting the twisting yellow flames in front of them, her skin flushed and warmed from it. He couldn’t say no to her, not really.

“Sure,” he replied softly, and she beamed and pulled him onto his feet. 

“We’ll be back,” Katara announced to Suki and Sokka.

She turned away from the fire to cross the smooth stone floor, but Sokka called out anyway.

“Don’t take your clothes off in the tundra!”

Katara threw a glare back in their direction, which was lost to the darkness. Once they were outside, they separated briefly, when she politely suggested he needed to change out of his bloody tunic. He made quick work of that in his room in Hakoda’s new house (mansion, really) before hurrying down the canal at the edge of the village. She was waiting with an oil lap and beside an elaborate sled made of ice.

“Did you make this?” he asked, and she turned when she heard his voice and smiled.

“And I can steer it too,” she said, motioning him to hop in.

He climbed inside and stood beside her near the handle bars. “Look at you chauffeuring me around. I feel like a king or something.”

She had set herself in a modified bending stance to move the sled, but it unraveled as she gave a snort.

“You’re such a dork.”

He grinned but before he could reply they shot off, the sled flying forward and snow moving under them all at once. They were quickly engulfed in darkness except for the ring of light from the oil lamp, which was rattling violently, but Katara seemed to know where she was taking them.

It wasn’t windy out, though with the sled moving so fast the cold air whipped his face and cheeks, sent his hair flying everywhere—it was an obnoxious length currently, a little longer than during the war, but not enough to manage another style so he was constantly pushing it out of his eyes. He tried to pull his hood over his head to keep it contained as the sled tipped down a hill and picked up momentum. 

Eventually, they slowed to a stop, the scrape of the runners on snow cutting out, leaving them in an eerie quiet. She hadn’t taken them far, not that he could tell. The darkness stretched in all directions, heavy like a blanket, except for the faint twinkling lights from the village and the lamp hanging from the handlebar.

He was probably a bad judge of it given the firebending, but it didn’t feel dangerously cold—there was no wind, just stillness and frigid air.

Katara unhooked the lamp and trekked from the sled, the flickering light following her as she sliced through the darkness like it was water. He could see the faint outline of an outcrop of rocks, dusted with white, and she set the lamp beside it.

She plopped down directly into the snow, sinking into the loose powder. “Come sit,” she said, and he could hear her patting the ground beside her. 

He followed her, seeing her features more clearly in the yellow light—face ringed with fur, strands of hair spilling out of her hood and plastered to her cheek that was bright red. He lowered himself beside her.

“You bring all your boyfriends out here?”

She grinned. “Only the ones I really like,” she said, and then sidled up to him with her head on his shoulder. 

He got a mouthful of fur from it, but he didn’t mind. They were alone, and his duties as Fire Lord felt a million miles away.

“Are you showing me the spirit lights?” he asked.

Zuko felt her head shift against his parka so she could look at him. “Oh so you’ve done your research?”

“And I just love spoiling surprises,” he replied, as he craned his neck up to the impossibly inky sky, studded with stars, peeking through ribbons of gray clouds. “Will we be able to see in this weather?”

She nodded. “Just give it a little time,” she said, then paused. “Unless you don’t want to?”

He scooted in closer to her, for whatever it was worth since she ensconced in her parka.

“Of course I do.” 

Katara hummed her agreement and sat against him in silence, while he looked up and watched the clouds crawl slowly past them. She shivered after a few minutes, and he scooted closer before reaching into his parka.

She heard him rummaging and leaned forward slightly. “What is that?”

“I brought refreshments,” he explained. 

“ _Refreshments_?”

He managed to pry his waterskin from where he’d stored it in his parka. “I just brewed some jasmine tea at your father’s and put it in here.” Two sturdy tin cups followed from his pockets. “Thought I could warm it up for us?”

She blinked, though it was barely visible in the waning light from the lamp, before her lip curled up. “I find a new use for you every day.”

He suppressed a smile at that, and she reached out with her heavy mitten and soothed her hand over the loose snow until she’d bent it into a thick slab of ice for them to set the cups on.

“You’re not so useless yourself,” he said with an amused look.

Zuko poured the cold tea into each cup and warmed it between his palms before handing her the first, which she trapped in her mittens and held near her face. Once he had his own tea and was settled pressed beside her again, she nuzzled her head briefly in the fur of his hood.

“Thank you for suggesting we visit,” she murmured.

He sighed. “I’ve done a bang-up job so far.”

“Are you still worried about Gran-Gran?” she asked with a breathy laugh.

“Katara, I told her about _us_ ,” he said exasperatedly. “You didn’t even get the chance-,”

“It sounds like you were honest. Sincere,” she said, with a soft smile. “That’s all I could ask for.”

“You could have asked me to keep my mouth shut and leave your grandmother alone,” he grumbled.

Katara took a sip of her tea. “I thought it couldn’t hurt for you to talk to her.”

He gave a harsh scoff that crystallized in the air in front of him.

Her head rolled back slightly on his shoulder so she could give him a pointed look. “You know, you could tell me _why_ you’re so worried about gaining her approval.”

Zuko averted his eyes to the snow, then realized the better distraction was above them. He spoke after a few moments.

“I don’t want you to lose anything in your life because of me,” he said. “I already know it’s a lot to ask of you, but it’s also a lot to ask of your family.”

She put a gloved hand on his face to pull their eyes together. “I promise I’m not throwing you to the wolves. My father has always liked you, and Gran Gran is tough, but fair. She wants me to be happy.” She dropped her arm after giving him a pat. “She may just think you’re a touch soppy.”

“I am not soppy,” he griped.

Her brow rose. “Really, Zuko?” she began, barely containing a laugh. “You’re gonna make me say it? Because I will, I’ll say it.” She mimicked his voice with outlandish hyperbole. “ _You rise with_ -,”

He cut her off with a load groan and buried his face in his elbow, while she cackled with glee.

“I am leaving back for the Fire Nation _right now_ -,”

She put her tea down to push herself into his chest and squeeze him, still laughing. “Wait, come on,” she said. “I’ll stop.”

They were close, the fur rimming her hood tickling his cheek. “No, you won’t,” he replied, and she grinned.

“No,” she agreed. “I won’t.” Then she pitched forward to kiss him—he was mostly numb so he felt the press of her cold lips but not the familiar tingle, though if he inched open his mouth that would probably be rectified quickly. He tried to remind himself of Sokka’s words despite quite badly wanting to take his clothes off in the tundra.

She pulled away and planted a few more kisses on his scar, which he _definitely_ couldn’t feel, before she sat back.

“I’m glad you came with me,” she said softly. “It means a lot.” 

“I was being selfish, I wanted more time with you.”

“Yes, but…” She sighed, a wisp of white in front of them, twisting around the steam wafting from her cup that she’d recaptured in her hands while he spoke. “You gave me the push I needed.”

“Was something holding you back?” he asked. 

She straightened, giving a half shrug. “Just afraid to see how different it all is and—you know, Mom,” she said, then cleared her throat. “It’ll be—twelve years in two days. Thought it might be easier to distract myself with work, but I want to be here.”

His brow arched in, panic briefly gripping him. “Katara, you should have-,”

“I didn’t want to make a big deal of it,” she insisted with a wave of her hand. 

Still, she couldn’t look at him, squeezing her cup and staring down at the ripples her breath was making in it. As he thought to reach for her, she spoke.

“I probably should have told you,” she muttered. “If you—think the optics are bad-,”

He stifled a groan and rubbed his hands over his face. “I don’t think I’d ever get to visit if I tried to avoid the anniversary of every atrocity the Fire Nation inflicted on this place.”

“Zuko, you’re not responsible for those things.”

“Doesn’t make them any less awful,” he muttered, and she nudged him.

“If you’re going to sulk at least enjoy the view.”

He nudged her back. “You or the spirit lights?”

Katara gave a sharp bark of laughter before shoving him, sloshing his tea dangerously on one side, and he was glad to pull her from her melancholy if only for a moment, even if it meant being teased.

“I will leave you in this tundra, Zuko-,”

“Alright, alright,” he said, raising his hand to placate her, though she’d wrestled a smile out of him. “I can’t stand the sight of you, are you happy now?”

She leaned back against him with another giggle. “Over-correcting, but yes.”

Zuko resisted the urge to over-correct again and tell her how beautiful he was, instead resting his cheek against her hood. She finished her tea quickly, and he poured the rest of his into her cup after rewarming it since she’d probably appreciate it more anyway.

“Oh hey look-,” She pointed up at a faint, writhing green light under a dissipating cloud. “The spirits decided to smile down on us after all.”

He gave a doubtful sound. “You maybe.”

Katara curled her hands around his arm and squeezed. “What’s not to like about you?”

“How much time do you have?”

“Zuko,” she said plaintively, and he made an exasperated sound of acquiescence that made her burrow further into him.

He craned his neck up—as Katara had predicted, the sky was clearing, green waves of light against the darkness stronger now, the occasional flicker of purple joining them. Uncle had pointed out the spirit lights when they arrived at the South Pole many years ago, and Zuko, always angry, had growled at him not to waste their time with useless backwater anecdotes about things he didn’t care about.

His mouth opened, frigid air rushing in, intending to apologize, when Katara tugged on his arm.

“Lay back and we can see better.”

She dragged him backwards before he could even respond, their backs thudding into the ice. He could feel the cold seeping through his parka, but he was plenty warm and assumed Katara’s clothes insulated her much better. 

He heard her wiggle in the snow and then her mitten plopped on the ground between them. She laced their fingers together and he brought them onto his chest so he could put his other hand over theirs to keep her warm.

“I miss the quiet like this,” she said softly. 

He turned his head to look at her. “You can come back whenever you want.”

Her lips scrunched on one side of her face, contemplating, before her expression softened.

“So much has changed, I—I’m glad this hasn’t.”

Zuko wanted to soothe her, but didn’t have the right words. Maybe there were none. He gently squeezed her hand and she shifted to look at him, raising a brow but he spoke in his defense before she could make a smartass remark.

“We are so _utterly_ alone—I can look at you however I want,” he insisted.

Her lip quirked in a smile and she settled back to look at the sky, even brighter now as the gray clouds thinned.

“Have we ever been this alone, you think?”

He took the question seriously, since there wasn’t the familiar lilt in her voice when she was trying to tease him with her salacious whispers. Perhaps like him she felt there was something more to this solitude than just the opportunity to have their hands on each other—it was the chance to escape the heavy mantle he donned that she had (maybe foolishly) agreed to help him carry, despite the scrutiny and the thankless work. He hoped she understood how grateful he was for it, how incomprehensibly lucky it was that she loved him and wanted this life with him. 

“Not in a very long time,” he eventually replied.

“I like it,” she said simply. 

“Me too.”

He squeezed her hand between his once more and enjoyed the silence far better with her beside him.

====

The main canal of the village was empty upon their return, late enough that if Sokka spotted them, it would probably gain Zuko some sort of good-natured reprimand—he and Katara laid out and waited hours for the skies to clear, in silence, and then her laying over him with his arms around her, listening to her tell stories of all the exploits of her youth with Sokka, including her favorite legends and then the time Sokka got two fishhooks caught in his thumb and she had to pull them out because he was crying too hard. The lanterns were dimmer, the light they cast glistening in the snow that had dropped on the street throughout the day. Katara’s voice cracked the fragile silence as they reached Hakoda’s new and impressive lodgings.

“Zuko,” she said, and as he turned to face her, she pushed her hair over her ears back into her hood. “Will you come to my room?”

He didn’t think about for it, for a beat—was blithely staring at her and planning to continue their conversation until he froze and his brain registered her implication before shutting down entirely.

“Uh…”

Her mouth split into a bashful smile as her eyes flicked away. He could see a blush rushing to her cheeks in the faint light.

“You can say no, but you do have to answer,” she said as he continued to gape.

“Sorry,” he blurted out immediately. “I’m sorry it’s just-,” He ran his hand across his forehead before stopping at the mottled skin of his scar. “Hakoda—your father, it’s his…”

She arched one brow. “I’m twenty, you really think he just barges into my room anymore?”

“No, but…”

“Plus you saw that thanks to all this _influence_ from the North Pole-,” she crinkled her nose at the mention “-his house is huge. Our rooms aren’t even on the same floor as his.”

Zuko couldn’t exactly fault Hakoda since he himself lived in a literal _palace_ , but chose to ignore that fact and wondered if he was going to melt through the meticulously carved ice under them after bursting into flames.

Katara sensed his discomfort and ran her hands across the front of his parka. “But, hey, forget I asked, it was a dumb idea-,”

“No—no!” he insisted, horrified.

She gave a short giggle at the aghast look on his face. “Zuko, it’s not a one-time offer,” she said. “I want you to be totally comfortable and sure, and so we’ll just wait and I can have my hands all over you when I get back to the Fire Nation, okay?”

This had categorically _not_ been his day—first, getting caught red-handed by Katara’s _grandmother_ being hopelessly in love and now displaying staggering incompetence on the issue of having sex when it was quite literally all he thought about some days. 

“I—I just didn’t know if you’d done that before,” he said.

She was closer now, crooking one arm around his waist, hair damp and flecked with snow. He was so doomed.

“I have,” she replied simply. “Not with Aang.”

“Me neither,” he said stupidly.

A full-throated laugh escaped her, sending her head back and her hood falling to her shoulders. So, _so_ doomed.

“That would make it terribly complicated, wouldn’t it?”

He was blushing so furiously he assumed there was only blood in two places in his body, and he wasn’t sure which he was more mortified by.

“I shouldn’t pry,” he said.

She shrugged. “It’s completely fair to ask,” she replied. “Honestly I assumed you slept with Mai, but if you haven’t…”

“Of course—I mean, _not_ of course, just that I—I have, or, er, used to-,”

Katara put her other arm around him and rested her head on his shoulder, eyes glinting. “You’re making it too easy for me to tease you.”

He huffed and finally cirled his hands tentatively around her back. “I—I want to. I do, Katara.”

She seemed to be waiting for a _but_ —he didn’t have one, was going to take her to her room and do as much or as little as she wanted and frankly thought it would be better now than if they waited to be in the ornate and suffocating walls of his bedroom where he was still the Fire Lord, instead of just Zuko, in some tiny bed piled with furs and not needed by the world. It was the first slightly terrifying leap they needed to make rather than him wringing his hands about it because everything _else_ had been so fucked out of order by his duty and his blathering about loving her the minute she pressed her lips to his. 

When he said nothing, she lifted her head slightly. “Oh, you-,” she stopped and looked him fully. “Are you sure?”

He put his hands on her cheeks and pulled her forward to kiss her. He swallowed the startled sound she made, but not the little laugh that escaped her when he pulled away.

“I’m sure,” he said. 

She scrutinized him, brow raised and suppressing a smile, before she hummed her approval and stepped back completely. She took his hand in her mitten, leading them through the quiet house, up the stairs, only releasing her hold once they were through her door.

The lock clicked behind him and it sent his pulse thundering in his ears—he hated the reaction, the tightness in his chest, because it was just Katara, he wasn’t some fumbling sixteen year old and there was nothing to be nervous about. (Unless he screwed it up, which was possible.)

He peeled off his parka as Katara went to add wood to the hardly flickering ashes in the small hearth. Once she was sat safely in the chair beside it, he coaxed the flames higher, and she made an appreciative sound while she held her bare hands out to warm them.

Her own coat was bulky and as she tried to reach down to pick at the elaborate criss-cross of laces on her boots, he knelt in front of her.

“Let me,” he said, and she leaned back with a small smirk.

“Really setting the mood I see.”

He had managed to loosen one of her boots and glared playfully. “Will the teasing cease at any point this evening?”

She pretended to contemplate thoughtfully for a few moments before raising an eyebrow. “Maybe if you ask nicely.”

He’d managed to pry off both her boots and set them next to the fire. Still kneeling, he leaned forward to wrap his arms around her waist until they were inches apart and almost the same height. He could see her breathing hard under her parka the closer he got, maybe it helped that she was nervous too, before he slanted his mouth over hers, gently, trembling even, and she put her hands on his face.

His kiss was tender and hesitant until she made a noise in her throat and tightened her grip, and he pried her mouth open and pressed between her legs into the chair. She clung to him, scooting to the edge of her seat and drawing her hands across his shoulders, seeming grateful he’d gotten out of his coat.

When he pulled away, she whimpered in protest before opening her eyes. “Nice enough for you?” he murmured, and she scoffed before dragging him back to her.

It was bold, but he unclasped the ties on her parka because out in the tundra he couldn’t stand not feeling her skin under his hands and certainly couldn’t take it now. She helped him along and wiggled out of it, letting it fall back onto the chair and sink to the floor while she slid forward and onto his lap. He caught her, but the suddenness made the wood planks under him creak—the jolt of fear he thought would course through him never came and all he could think was that she had never felt so perfect pressed up against him.

There was not nearly enough friction, for her either apparently, because she let him unfold his legs before she dragged his tunic over his head and pushed him to the floor to straddle him. She had far more shirts and layers that she pulled off indiscriminately when she wasn’t kissing him or dragging her mouth across his neck and pulling undignified sounds from him.

She straightened on top of him eventually and fumbled with her bindings, one side of her alight from the fire and the other cast in darkness. He sat up, burying his face in her tangled hair and her jaw, kissing a spot under her ear and along the column of her throat and only halfheartedly taking his own advice not to leave any marks behind. He let his hands skim feather light up her ribcage to her chest and she shuddered under his touch before pulling him back by his hair to look at him, lips crushed red and smiling slightly.

“This—may be your last chance to escape with that Fire Lord virtue intact,” she whispered, one hand cupping his neck and her breath fanning across his face.

Really his last chance was _before_ she took her clothes off, and he assumed given the way she straddled his hips that she knew what his answer would be. He had a hard time articulating anything with her completely bare before him, the way her skin looked burnished in the firelight.

“Kat, I love you,” he rasped. “Truly, I…” He reached up and put his hand in her messy curls to hold their faces close. “You’re everything to me.”

He thought he may be fondly ribbed for being so serious (or worse, soppy), but she said nothing of the sort and kissed him fiercely. He fell backwards and managed to catch himself with one hand, holding her waist with the other, and then she was undoing the rest of his clothes with an intense, singular focus like she couldn’t stand not seeing him for one more second and he scrambled to help her. 

She pressed another kiss to his mouth when she was done. “Come to bed with me?” she asked softly.

Sokka could have walked in the room that instant or a hole opened in the sky and he would not have turned her down.

“Yes,” he replied hoarsely, and she smiled and climbed off him, leading again with their hands clasped.

She crawled into her bed under her furs and he joined her, pressed against every inch of her and warmer than he’d ever been despite the bitter cold outside the window. She wrapped around him like a vine and kissed him deeply, ran her hands across him, in that deathly quiet house, where it was dark and still except for the pop of the fire and their harsh breathing. She inched apart her legs and he settled between them, their chests rising and falling and competing for the scant space to breathe. Her heavy furs utterly cocooned them, even when he wasn’t kissing her they were trading the same warm air.

He vaguely thought that his arms may tire at some point, holding himself above her, which would be slightly more mortifying than usual since she seemed to very much enjoy tracing the muscles in his biceps and across his stomach that quivered under her touch. Her dark hair was splayed everywhere, across her white pillow, over his arms—he remembered one of the first flickers of attraction he’d ever had for her when she stormed out of her tent the morning he sat vigil during the war and began combing the long elegant strands—a feeling he sharply extinguished along with his questions about why he was working so hard to earn her forgiveness. He’d been doomed all along, really, and for this to be the outcome was far more than he deserved. 

His languid worship of her was interrupted by her only remotely frantic movement—arching her hips into him after he’d kissed every inch of her he could reach and slid his hand between them, and she half-moaned, half-whispered the word _please_ , as if he was doing her some sort of favor, as if he needed to be asked to do what would make him literally the happiest he’d ever been, especially if he could do this and everything else with her forever. Her breath caught when he eased into her, then a quiet moan, it took all his willpower not to scream _fuck_ at the top of his lungs because she liked him and wanted him. 

It was gentle and achingly slow—slow in tempo, perhaps embarrassingly fast in timing because it had been a while for him and she was so utterly perfect, he was probably halfway gone in the street or when the door locked. But she unraveled, too, whispered in his ear that she’d been dying to have him all day, before she grit her teeth trying to be quiet and raked her fingers down his shoulder and across his hair. It made him thrust a little dangerously for a bed that rickety and clench his hands in the sheets before he followed her.

She planted wet kisses on his cheeks and neck before he captured her lips and then rolled off her because he was probably crushing her. He was slightly delirious and panting, but he heard a content sigh beside him and he thought he might burst from—happiness, contentment felt in his very bones, pride, relief. And not just because he’d enjoyed the—well, main event, but because it was the beginning of something that lasted longer than their time tangled together in this bed.

Her furs had slid down his back and lay crumpled at their waists before she lifted them to her shoulder, probably cold now, nestling them under her chin as she turned on her side to him. Her ocean eyes looked dark in the low light, but her lips were pressed into a small smile. 

“I love you,” she whispered.

For all the affection and pleasure surging through him, it didn’t feel so different hearing the words. They meant just as much as they ever had, in Uncle’s tea shop or nestled in the quiet of the South Pole with nothing between them. If he'd had trepidation tonight, it was only at the prospect that he may fumble or disappoint her, because otherwise he knew with startling certainty that there was no one he'd rather spend his life with. 

He rested his hand on her face, stroking her cheek. “I love you too.”

She curled close to him and he rested his arm over the furs wrapped around her. “Will you stay for a little bit?” she murmured. “Then you can sneak off, I promise.”

He wished he could stay for longer. Forever. To be—something real with her, to everyone else, and hold her in his arms at night, even in the Fire Nation. He pressed his lips to her forehead. 

“As long as you want.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone as always for their kind words! Katara's POV is next and still sticking around in the SWT! Next update may take a little longer given it's size, so apologies in advance for that.


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank y'all for your patience as I chipped away at this chapter! I'm so grateful for your support, and I hope you enjoy!

Katara cracked one eye open a little after dawn, to gray light filtering through her window. The cold had settled heavy on her, curling around her toes as they stuck out of her furs because she’d only haphazardly thrown them over herself once Zuko crept out. A grave miscalculation as the warmth from his body had quickly evaporated.

She rubbed her eyes and staggered from her bed, embracing the cold entirely. The floor was biting against her feet as she padded over to the window—the glass was rimmed with frost and she rubbed it with the fleshy side of her fist to see through. It had snowed in the late hours of the night, only disturbed by the footsteps of the earliest risers along the canal.

Her mother had loved the sight, dragged Katara out of her bedroll on more than one occasion to gaze in wonder at a landscape of igloos dotted with fresh snow.

There were no igloos now. They had been replaced with buildings sprawling along sparkling canals, stretching to the bustling harbor. So _many_ good things along with it—a waterbending school, healing huts, a massive new gathering place serving as a testament to their history and culture.

She wondered if there was anything at all left of the place she remembered and once stared in awe at with her mother. Would Kya like that their home was reduced to a cheap imitation of the North Pole? 

A frustrated huff left her, so cold in the room she saw it blow white and then dissipate. She had a good day yesterday. A great day. Being _home_ , seeing her family and the rest of the tribe, not to mention time with Zuko, who so often was unable to be anything but the Fire Lord. And yet she was haunted by this perceived loss of her home that was staring right back at her through the window.

She vigorously rubbed her face, hoping her spiraling thoughts would leave her. She was at least distracted rinsing off before changing clothes because the water she bent around herself was ice cold and she didn’t have time (or Zuko) to heat it up for her.

When she was ready, she grabbed her boots and hurried down the stairs to the first floor—burying the familiar irritation in her gut that her father had been cajoled into accepting such an estate given his station.

Zuko was there alone, fastening up his parka, alert and chipper as usual in the mornings, to her chagrin. He looked up when he heard her footsteps and smiled slightly. The same tender smile from the night before that had been shrouded in darkness—she was not going to blush if _he_ wasn’t, so she trapped the flood of memories that threatened to redden her up to her ears, no matter the warmth blooming across her chest.

“Good morning,” he said.

“Hi,” she replied, returning his smile. “Seen my father anywhere?”

He gestured to the door. “I was meditating this morning, but I think I heard him leave.”

“Probably prep for our meeting in a few hours,” she said, as she tossed her boots at the foot of the stairs for when she headed outside.

Zuko nodded, and she clopped down one last step before shuffling over to him. He regarded her curiously though not cautiously once she stopped only a few inches from his chest.

“That means we’re alone again,” she remarked, grinning crookedly with her hands behind her back so she’d keep them to herself for the time being. 

His eyes searched her face, evaluating, before he raised his brow. “Not nearly alone as I’d like.”

Katara lifted her chin a little defiantly since her heart had otherwise not cooperated with her coy little game and stuttered in her chest at the warm rasp in his voice. He was going to be _smug_ now, was he? One good lay and he was suddenly strutting and arrogant and irritatingly handsome.

She ran her hand across his parka—ineffective, since it was far too thick of an outer layer, so she clenched the open lapel in her hand to keep him in place.

“How alone would you like to be?” she asked innocently.

He pretended to think for a moment. “Desolate, tundra alone,” he said. “But warmer.”

“Oh so really, _really_ alone,” she began, then tightened her grip. “Because I was thinking I’d like to get you somewhere where we could be a little-,”

“-louder?” they finished in unison, his a question, and she pouted that he anticipated her words.

He grinned. “You’re going to have to try a little harder to fluster me now,” he whispered, leaning closer.

Far, _far_ too smug. She released her grip, falling onto her heels as she dragged her tongue along her teeth. “Duly noted,” she said with a small laugh. 

His smile turned wicked, and she smacked his stomach with the back of her hand, which only drew a chuckle out of him as she pivoted to the hearth. She noticed a spent kettle no longer hanging over the fire and knelt down to press her fingers for half a second against it, but it was only barely warm. No one in the tribe was much of a tea drinker when she was young, but Iroh had certainly made a convert out of Sokka who in turn made one out of their father.

Katara turned while still crouching down. “Could you reheat this for me?” she asked Zuko.

He walked over and accepted it from her as she lifted it to her shoulder. “I can get fresh water.”

“No need,” she said with a wave of her hand. 

“Uncle would have a lot to say about that,” he remarked dryly.

“I’m not worried about the _taste_ of this tea,” she said, as she searched a nearby cabinet for a clean cup. 

He was silent for a beat before he cleared his throat. “Oh, yes—right,” he said, apparently sapped of smugness with a discussion of contraception on the table, which just made her smirk. He hurriedly wrapped his hands around the kettle, and after a few seconds of warming, withdrew. “Should be ready now.”

Katara plopped a tea bag from her pocket into a cup and then offered it to him to pour the water. “Go ahead,” she said. “Unless you think it would be fun to have a bastard Fire Lord on our hands.”

He complied, filling it almost to the brim. She stuck her finger in the moderately hot water to press the bag against the rim to steep it faster, which would probably also mortify Iroh.

“It wouldn’t be a bastard child,” he said hastily, watching her. “I mean, we’d just marry and-,” 

Her eyes flicked up to him. “Don’t be romantic.”

“It’s not romantic,” he protested.

Katara pulled her finger out of the cup and flicked the water away. “Chivalrous, then.”

Zuko huffed. “I’m just saying I would never leave you out in the cold-,”

“Poor choice of words.”

“-if that were to happen!”

She knocked back the tea in one go, blanching at the bitterness. “I know you wouldn’t, Zuko,” she said and then walked over and rubbed his arms. “You’re stuck with me.”

“ _That_ is a poor choice of words,” he said. “I’m not stuck.”

She chuckled. “You are,” she countered. “You just like it.”

“I guess I do.”

He wanted to kiss her, his eyes dropped to her lips, but he was far too well-behaved to do it. She wasn’t, so she tipped forward into him until their mouths were pressed together, and a warm exhale left his nose before he melted against her because he was too _stuck_ to keep her from being indecorous. Her hands were still on his arms, so he cupped her jaw when she showed no intention to pull away.

After too few seconds, she heard the door and felt a blast of cold air before there was a scandalized gasp.

“Whoa, _whoa_ -,”

Zuko jumped back, hilariously frightened because he thought he’d been spotted by her father. He whirled around and seeing Sokka, lost some of the tension in his shoulders, though not all of it.

Katara just rolled her eyes as her brother and Suki slipped inside the door shaking snow off themselves.

“Honestly, Sokka,” she said.

Sokka raised one hand, finger jabbing his own chest with an indignant look. “Hey, I was my usual magnanimous self about this oogie romantic thing you two have, but I don’t need to see any tongue battles-,”

She crossed her arms. “I feel sorry for Suki if you think kissing is a tongue battle.”

“I am a _god_ amongst lovers, Katara-,”

Zuko gave a groan beside her. “Can’t this conversation be over?”

Sokka jerked his accusing finger behind him. “Katara and I need to see Dad, so it can, if you two can manage to be apart from one another for more than ten seconds.”

“Oh, please,” Katara said with a scoff. “I’m pretty sure you rescued Suki from Boiling Rock just so you two could be attached at the hip and make out in your tent all day.”

“I rescued her because I’m a _hero_ and the ladies love a hero,” Sokka replied.

“I kind of recall Suki rescuing herself while we watched,” Zuko remarked.

“Thank you!” Suki interjected with a playful glare from the hearth. She’d stooped beside it to drop off supplies, near where Katara had abandoned her cup. Katara watched in horror as the Kyoshi Warrior pushed down the rim of said cup to peer inside before her brow rose and she flung the bag into the fire. Katara blushed, but Suki just winked at her as she stood. She should have thought to do that herself since Sokka surely wasn’t _that_ dense and would have a lot to say if he recognized the smell or shape of the sachet.

Sokka remained blessedly oblivious and crossed his arms. “I was still pretty heroic,” he grumbled.

Katara resisted rolling her eyes again and walked over to pull her boots on. When they were laced up she took her brother’s arm to lead him to the door.

“The big hero and I will be with our father if you need us,” she remarked, and Zuko and Suki waved as they swept out onto the canal.

Hakoda lived close to the main buildings of the village—a massive house and prime real estate all in one—so their walk in the icy morning air was a short one. They stopped by the office Sokka had claimed for himself to pick up some papers, a room Katara assumed her brother only used to make muscles to himself in the mirror in private since he lived with Suki now.

Their father’s office was the largest in this new and imposing government building, with east-facing windows and a view of the entire village. It hadn’t seemed like something he would want, even as chief, but apparently that grand office was a mere waypoint for the bigger and better things the North envisioned for her home. 

Katara’s arms were full, so she pushed open the door with her shoulder. She didn’t knock because Sokka could never be bothered to, which in retrospect is where the trouble began.

There was an immediate scuffling when the door creaked and swung inward, but it was too late—Katara wished it wasn’t, she didn’t want to see what she was right now, didn’t even want to _think_ about it.

Her father with his arms wrapped around, and his mouth pressed against, some _woman_ —not her mom, not anyone, when had her father done this with _anyone_?

Katara froze, shock paralyzing her two steps into the room, so abruptly Sokka bumped into her back.

“…Dad?” she began weakly, but hearing the door open, Hakoda and the woman had already sprung back with guilty looks.

Katara recognized her. Malina. She had accompanied Pakku here from the North Pole during the war, styling herself as an engineer and architect for all the homes now towering over the canals of the village— _city_ , she insisted on calling it, actually. She was a bender, but of middling skill, as if it was an afterthought. She was the one who pushed hardest for the modern buildings now dotting Katara’s home, the reason her father lived in a mansion and was being told he should have aspirations to live in a palace. So that people took the Southern Water Tribe _seriously_. So they were civilized.

Hakoda straightened and turned to her. “Katara, I thought you were—that we were going to meet back at the house?”

She awkwardly shifted. ”Well I certainly didn’t mean to interrupt whatever this is.” 

His mouth was pinched tight. “I’m sorry, Katara,” he said. “I…didn’t want you to find out this way.”

Katara dumped her scrolls on the table by the door, shaking her head. “Find out _what_?” she asked. “That you’re…that she’s…”

Her father grimaced hearing the irritation in her voice. “We just-,”

“How long has this been going on exactly?” she demanded. 

Her father and Malina shared a guilty look—something flared in her gut, seeing the familiarity, the conspiring. 

“I’m sorry, do you _live_ with my _dad_ right now?” she began with a scowl. “In his big dumb mansion, is _that_ why you wanted him to have one?”

“Katara, that’s not fair,” Hakoda said immediately. 

She flung her hand out. “Tell me I’m wrong then!”

He sighed. “Nothing happened when you were still here, but we are living together now,” he admitted. “We just thought it would be better for your visit that Malina-,”

“Hide away?” she finished acridly. “When were you even planning on telling me?”

“As soon as we could, of course,” he insisted. 

Katara scoffed. “Oh so you tell me now, and then get married so you can-,” She gestured with disdain out the window. “-move into some big palace next, is that the plan?”

Sokka wheeled around beside her with an incredulous look. “Katara, why are you so worried about where Dad lives?”

“It’s not him!” she snapped.

“You’re going to be in the Fire Nation palace someday, what do you care?” he asked.

She stiffened, eyes wide and a burst of angry energy rushing out of her. “Wha—Sokka!” she said shrilly, then spun to her father to backtrack. “He didn’t mean it like you think—I’m just, you know, on the council-,”

“You’re seriously going to lie to his face right now?” Sokka interjected.

Katara scowled at him. “None of _this_ has anything to do with my relationship with-,”

“Your _secret_ relationship with _Zuko_ -,”

“You are so obnoxious!” she hissed.

Hakoda raised his hand. “It’s okay, I’m not upset.”

“Why would you be?” she demanded.

“Katara, please-,”

She bristled—she did not want to be _reasoned_ with, to be told to calm down, to think about her father living with _Malina_ in that oversized house and them being married and her being—being-

“I can’t do this right now,” she said with a sharp wave of her hand. Sokka hastily sidestepped from the door perhaps for his own safety and she darted out, across the hallway, down the stairs of the building, and over the first canal that would lead her outside the village.

She was practically vibrating with rage—she couldn’t even articulate how the shock of what she’d seen swirled into this all-consuming, incoherent ire. Her footsteps were sharp, thudding, and she eventually heard scrambling behind her. Sokka, sounding half-exasperated.

“Listen, alright, I’m sorry for what I said, it just slipped out-,”

Katara clenched both fists and whirled around, splattering snow across his boots. “It was completely out of line and you know it!”

“You were going to tell him anyway, and I’m not wrong,” he said defensively—her fierceness cowed most people, but obviously not her own brother. “It’s not fair for you to harp on Dad for being in a secret relationship when you’re doing the exact same thing.”

“I’m not upset he’s _hiding_ it, I’m upset he’s—he’s-,” She made a frustrated sound and waved her hand. “I know that Malina woman, she doesn’t want what’s best for the tribe.”

“You don’t know her,” he said. 

“I was here, I remember!” she protested angrily. “They want _rules_ and _order_. To bring _civilization_ here to the South.”

Sokka sighed. “Dad gets to choose who he wants to be with,” he said evenly. “Just like you do.”

“How long have you known about this?” she asked with a frown.

He shrugged helplessly. “You know—a few months. I do live here.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me?”

“It’s not really my place,” he said, and she gave him a withering look that made him raise both hands. “Yeah, alright, I said I’m sorry about the Zuko thing. But Dad asked me to hold off about Malina so he could tell you in person.”

“He wanted to _stall_ because Malina is not right for him,” she retorted, frowning further. 

Sokka paused for a moment before he rubbed his brow. “No one but Mom will seem right to you.”

Katara didn’t know why even the _mention_ of her mother today twisted her up so badly inside, but it did. Her jaw felt glued shut with too many words and emotions piling up behind it. Suddenly it burst out of her in a strangled shout. 

“She loved it here! Just the way it was! The way it _used_ to be.”

Sokka recoiled slightly, brow furrowed in surprise—spirits, sometimes she wished she could embrace his lightness, shed the turmoil so often churning in her chest. But Sokka was not the reason their mother was dead. She was.

“Katara…”

Her voice wavered. “Our village is _gone_ , Sokka. It’s all gone.”

“It’s just better,” he replied gently. 

She was unleashed then, it wasn’t Sokka fault—she was just wound so tightly she snapped and the spiral left her dizzy and incoherent and _angry_.

“It’s not better!” she spat. “There’s nothing inherently _better_ , a palace isn’t _better_ , their stupid buildings aren’t _better_ -,”

He looked hesitant to disagree with her. “More wealth and resources is technically-,”

She was digging a trench in the snow with her rapid, pacing footfalls. “Why did _they_ get to decide all this—why did Dad let himself get _manipulated_ -,”

“You knew all this was happening,” Sokka interrupted incredulously. “You saw the plans. Dad didn’t make these choices alone.”

“I got the coin,” Katara said. “We needed the money. I took myself all the way to the _Fire Nation_ where it’s stupidly hot and there are _bugs_ -,”

“Nobody shipped you out there, Katara,” he said, then gave a snort. “And frankly you don’t have to feel guilty for liking it. I know you do.”

Her marching stopped mid-step and she reared around to him with a huff. 

“I like it _here_ ,” she snapped, flinging her hand back to the village. “What used to be my home!” 

Sokka frowned. “It’s still your home, even if it’s not exactly the way _you_ want it because you’ve been too busy being bossy in the Fire Nation and having a big dumb crush on the Fire Lord.”

“I am not too busy for my home!” she shot back, voice rising. 

“Too busy to be your usual controlling self about every little thing going on here,” he muttered.

Katara cut him a ferocious look. “You are _so_ -,” She devolved into a frustrated growl rather than finish her sentence.

“Wow, sis, devastating insult there,” he said sarcastically. “You and Zuko are really the tag-team champions of witty banter.”

“You are the worst!” she finished sharply, which she realized was not much of a comeback, so she twisted on her heel and stalked off. Her rage did not retreat even as she did, marching back to the unfamiliar place Sokka insisted was her _home_. 

She tried to calm down. She tried so hard. She kept her eyes on the snow, the familiar jagged line of rocks just outside the village, then squeezed them shut when planes of white were all that was the same about this place.

When she was with Aang, and so young, nomadic, it had been easy to still see the South Pole as home. The one place she was rooted and could go back to—now that place was different, the people were, too, including her father. Trying to move on with his life, older, maybe wiser, realizing long before she did that preserving the last place Kya had been wouldn't bring her back. Nothing would. Katara had been so ambitious, the thrust of her focus on the _world_ that this place slipped right through her fingers without her even noticing.

Just like she’d lost her mother—with no chance to say goodbye.

====

Zuko returned to the docked Fire Nation airship in the morning to read the correspondence that arrived overnight for him—an overwhelming amount, as usual, that he tried to whittle away in the time before their meetings for the day. He was a little distracted and less efficient than usual, everything about Katara seared in his memories and yanked to the forefront.

Pleasing moments to relive, though maybe not while walking back across a canal where he could easily come face to face with Katara’s father, or worse her grandmother. For some reason, he had chilling visions in his head of Kanna hobbling up to him, and with one shrewd look, _knowing_ what he and Katara had done, as if it was written on his forehead or he was that transparent. He shuddered at the thought.

Zuko was so distracted, he almost didn’t notice a snowball sailing towards him over the narrow inlet of water from the canal. He jerked back just in time and it whizzed past his face before hitting the ground and disintegrating back into powder. His neck snapped around to the source—a group of children of varying ages darting behind clumsily-erected snow walls and hurling snowballs at one another. Someone had overshot and not even noticed he was almost collateral damage. He doubted any of the children in the village cared much about visiting dignitaries anyway. 

Frolicking children were not a staple of the palace grounds in the Fire Nation, and though Zuko occasionally saw them on his visits to the general public as Fire Lord, they were on their absolute best behavior, not chasing one another and shrieking with glee like these children were.

The bigger kids were playing quite roughly, shoving snow into one another’s faces when their icy projectiles were ineffective. There was a smaller girl trying to keep up between the two teams, teetering precariously on the ice as she hurried after what he assumed was an older sibling with a single snowball cradled in her hands.

Really it wasn’t fair how adorable the young ones were in their parkas, with their little mittens and boots, round faces nestled in a ring of white fur. He imagined that’s how Katara looked when she was that age, all big blue eyes, beads sparkling in her hair.

The thought came unbidden, but he wondered what it would be like to have one. A daughter, a miniature Katara bundled in a parka that he could wrap up in a big hug and smother with affection.

His stomach curdled in the next second, and his gaze dropped to the ground. He was being the absolute definition of _not fucking cool_ because he should probably have sex with a woman more than _once_ before fantasizing about their children. It was a warmer feeling than when he thought about them before, which was just whenever his advisors harassed him about having _heirs_. Despite Iroh’s lack of preference on the matter, the Fire Sages (and Katara’s family) may prefer for him to be married first before any toddlers were suited up in adorable parkas.

Zuko ducked his head and resumed his walk along the canal, forcibly leaving behind such thoughts for his own sake. He encountered no one else and was not stopped—as Fire Lord he didn’t exactly expect to be pulled into friendly conversation. Most of his treatment by the tribe elders or ambassadors was begrudging acceptance at best. 

Katara was supposed to have returned to her father’s to speak with him in advance of their meeting—she always knew the right ways to handle the other chieftains and was no doubt almost entirely the reason why the Fire Nation’s relationship with the tribe was amicable at all.

Zuko stamped his feet at the threshold of Hakoda’s house to knock off excess snow before opening the door, but stopped upon hearing voices—urgent, exasperated.

“And you said _nothing_ when Sokka told you this?”

Another voice, not nearly as frantic, replied. Hakoda. 

“There’s nothing to say. Katara is going to do what she wants.”

Zuko realized with sinking dread that he should not be listening to this conversation. His hand froze in midair near the doorknob and he dropped it, meaning to turn away and flee, but he was paralyzed down to his toes—morbid curiously, perhaps.

The other voice was Pakku, who was becoming increasingly incensed.

“She’s _twenty_ , what does she know about the rest of her life?”

“She’s old enough to decide who she wants to be with.”

“And the boy? Do we know what he wants?”

“Whatever she does, if I had to guess.”

“Oh I’m sure he’ll _say_ anything. How can we trust him to keep his promise if this is all some big secret?”

“It sounds like it’s just for the time being-,”

“As if _lots_ of Fire Lords haven’t said that to get their hands on pretty girls.”

“I think we can agree he’s nothing like his father-,”

“She is the _last_ waterbender from the Southern Water Tribe, and you would really just give her away to the Fire Nation?”

“Katara is not mine to give. And she’s no longer the last.”

There were footsteps close to the door, and Zuko staggered backwards in retreat. His boots scraped the ice as he walked and walked and walked down the canal until he was sure when either man burst through the door they wouldn’t catch sight of him and wonder if he overheard such resounding disapproval.

There was a riot of emotion in him—he was racked with it and tried to sit down to collect his breath when he was far enough away. He had to unfasten a few buttons on his parka as heaving breaths left him.

Zuko didn’t know why those words ignited such a spiral. It’s not as if he hadn’t said them to himself before. It’s not as if he didn’t brace himself in the Fire Nation for that and _so much worse_ because Pakku actually cared about Katara, and there would be people who hated her and said far more awful things.

Had Hakoda balked when he heard what was happening, heard their intentions? Had Kanna told Pakku what Zuko said the day before, and was Pakku merely parroting _her_ disapproval? 

He looked up from where he was sitting, realizing in his panic that he’d trekked off quite far through the maze of buildings that he had no handle on navigating. He rubbed the smooth side of his forehead before he pulled himself to his feet. 

Just as he was surveying how best to get back to a familiar place, he heard the crunch of footsteps—quick, determined ones and he turned in time to see Katara, eyes still striking blue even among all the ice, crossing a bridge to him. He tried not to panic, but failed miserably.

Zuko did not even need to attempt an awkward greeting, as she marched right up to him and threw her arms around him, squeezing tight. He stiffened, but she held fast.

“Uh, Katara,” he said, after she drew a strangled sound from his lungs with the force of her arms. “We shouldn’t-,”

She jerked back from him, and seeing her clenched jaw, he quickly back-tracked. “Are you okay?” he asked.

Katara sighed, hands still bracketing his arms. “I got in a stupid fight with Sokka.”

“Did something happen?” 

She rested her head against his shoulder. It was a small mercy his parka was so thick because he was still rigid with tension—what if Pakku saw this affection when the man doubted him as he did? Or Hakoda? Would they sneer at him having his hands on someone they cared for so much? 

“A lot,” she muttered. “A lot happened.”

He rested one hand on her back, resisting the urge to drag his fingers across her hair. “Something bad, I assume?”

“Well most importantly for us, my _idiot_ brother told my father that you and I were together,” she said with a frown. 

Zuko grimaced. “I know.”

The words left and sailed through the frigid air before he could recapture them—they had their intended effect because Katara’s brows immediately knit together and she leaned back.

“Wait, what?” she began. “How did you know?”

He was stunned into silence by his own stupidity— _lie_ , _idiot_ , a voice hissed in his head but he was _terrible_ at it.

“I—uh, talked to Sokka?”

Her blue eyes narrowed. “I was with Sokka two minutes ago and he went straight to the harbor,” she said, then untangled from him and crossed her arms. “Maybe you could try the truth this time?”

He clenched his jaw before he spoke. “I just—I did something I shouldn’t have,” he said. “I overheard your father and Pakku talking about us.”

The lines of irritation in her face faded, and she straightened while she dropped her hands. “Oh,” she said. “Well that was easy enough, wasn’t it?”

His cheeks were stained scarlet. “I’m sorry.”

She searched his eyes for a moment, reading more precisely into his crestfallen expression than he might have liked. “Was their conversation—bad? Unkind?” 

Zuko rubbed the back of his neck, his skin was burning up, and he wished he could fling himself into a snow bank and then maybe disappear into it forever.

“Not bad,” he began, then sighed. “They just expressed concern for you. Your dad wasn’t—it was just Pakku, really-,”

“Concern about what?” she asked incredulously.

Zuko’s hand dropped, flopping against his parka. “He’s skeptical about me. My intentions, which is completely fair. I don’t blame him.”

Her brow furrowed deeper, and she faced the canal with her lips pursed and arms folded over her chest again. “I’m sure they didn’t mean for you to hear.”

“It was an accident,” he admitted. “I should have left.”

She hastily shook her head. “Pakku knows Iroh. And you. He wouldn’t—he _doesn’t_ dislike you.” 

Zuko hesitated, then cleared his throat. “On principle, maybe, but he said we’re quite young for this kind of decision.”

A scowl overtook her face. “The marrying age where he’s from is _sixteen_ -,” 

“Pakku thinks I’m not serious—that I’ll change my mind and leave you with nothing. I’m the Fire Lord. You’re the last waterbender and…”

“I’m not the last,” she said reflexively.

He was quiet, scuffing his boot in the thin layer of snow on top of the canal, icy now and tinged gray. “I can’t say he’s entirely wrong.”

“Zuko, stop it,” she ordered, eyes cutting over to him. “You can’t believe every time someone doubts that this will work-,”

“I’m not doing that,” he replied defensively. “This isn’t just some random Fire Nation noble, this is Pakku and your _father_ -,”

“They are wrong!” she snapped harshly. “About _you_ , about all of it!”

She sounded anguished, but for some stupid reason all his face could do was twist in shock at her sharp retort.

“Katara-,”

She relented with an exasperated sound and pinched the bridge of her nose. “I—I’m sorry, I didn’t meant to….” Her fingers slid from her face, defeated. “It’s important, I know.”

He put his hand on her shoulder, the tense set of them crumbled any remaining sense of propriety left in him and he slid it across until his arm was around her. “Are you really okay, Katara?”

She was angled slightly into him, face obscured by a few tendrils of brown hair. He didn’t tuck them behind her ear because then he’d wrap himself around her entirely and never let go.

“No,” she eventually murmured, not looking at him. 

His heart could not help but ache seeing her deflated expression, the sorrow darkening her eyes. His brain could not help but scream _your fault, Zuko_. _Her choice but it’s your fault_.

He was scrambling for words. “If it’s all too much, you can change your mind-,”

She registered his words and immediately ripped away from him, expression two steps from cold fury. “Do not _say_ _that_.”

“I’m not asking you to, or questioning your choice,” he said, surprised by his own firmness. “I’m telling you it’s only fair that you can.”

“That’s not fair at all,” she protested. “We both said we wanted this.”

“I’m giving up _nothing_ to be with you. You understand that, don’t you?” he asked, frowning. “How utterly selfish it is for me to ask you to be Fire Lady?”

Now she was scowling. “I can make my own choices, Zuko-,”

“They’re hard choices!” he exclaimed, a mortifying outburst if not for the fact that he had fled to a somewhat secluded part of the canal. “I saw how difficult it was for you. How much time it took.”

“Well I _decided_ ,” she shot back. “I thought about what was important to me and what I wanted to do and I _love you_ , so I’m going with you! Even if-,” Her hand flung out, sharp and violent at first and then her anger collapsed into despair and it hung limp as she searched for right words. “Even if this place is…”

It was different. So very different. In good ways, it seemed to him, but his understanding of childhood nostalgia, of love for a place, was limited at best. Perhaps restricted only to the little turtleduck pond in the palace gardens where he so often sat with his mother and nowhere else.

Zuko knew his guilt would not help them. Knew the nagging voice telling him he wasn’t good enough didn’t matter—Katara should get to make her choice, good or bad or neutral, it was hers. He wouldn’t tell her differently, couldn’t anyway, selfish as he was. To make peace with the choice, she wanted her snow-dusted home preserved like a mosquito in amber, so nothing was lost or different, the inexorable passage of time stopped from taking away moments she _could_ have had here and _didn’t_ because she was in the Fire Nation. It struck him, terribly, that their children would hardly have need for little parkas at all, maybe a few weeks or months out of the year, but to this daughter he’d dreamed up, the South Pole would be her mother’s home, not hers. _Your fault, Zuko_. 

He hesitated, hands clenching before he raised them to cup her face. Her skin was freezing and nose chapped pink. “Look at me,” he said, ducking his head to her glassy eyes. “I know you decided what you want to do, Katara, but I’m sorry for what you’re having to give up.”

She sharply shook her head, voice thick. “I’m not giving—I’m…” Her eyes flicked sideways, all around, the evidence of the opposite in front of her, then her chin began trembling and he wrapped her in the tightest hug he could manage. 

“I’m sorry, Katara,” he said quietly, face pressed into her hair.

Instead of recoiling or telling him they shouldn’t—not here—he felt her mittens pressing into his back. She nestled her face in the opening of his parka, eyes wrenched shut. “No, I’m sorry you heard all those things. Pakku just doesn’t understand.”

“There will be others.”

“It’s not fair,” she whispered hoarsely. 

“Not to you,” he murmured back. “It’s not fair at all.”

“Not to you, either,” she said immediately, frowning against his coat. 

Perfectly fair to him, given his particular history with this place, but he just buried a hand in the hair at the nape of her neck. “I will prove that I will always do right by you. To your family, the tribe. To—to our family.” 

She withdrew enough to look at him. “Oh, Zuko, I know you will.”

He wanted to slide his hand to her jaw, trace her smooth cheeks with his fingers and kiss her. That was nothing if not risky, so he dropped his arms, but didn’t step back. “Tell me what I can do. How I can help.”

Katara shook her head. “I’ll be okay, really.”

He ignored the irony that someone so insistent on taking care of others was so bad at letting people take care of her. Before he could do more than give her an incredulous look, she tugged one arm of his parka with a grimace.

“Come on, we’re already late for this meeting,” she said. “Let’s not give Pakku more to complain about.”

Zuko let himself be dragged a few steps before stopping. “I love you, Katara. Really.”

She looked over her shoulder, stopping too, then reached out and wrapped her mitten around his hand. A smile ghosted her lips, but no further, no coy little grin or wiggle of her brow before she wrapped her arms around him and teased him for being so serious. _Your fault, Zuko_.

“Me too.” Katara released his hand after a final squeeze. “Really.” 

There was comfort in that, he thought, a perverse kind—that she wouldn’t subject herself to all this if she didn’t _really_ love him. It did not console him as much as he wanted it to as they walked down the canal a few inches apart back to the village. 

====

The meeting of the local chieftains was in another room far grander than the Southern Water Tribe had ever used for their gatherings. Katara remembered the early days after the war, meeting around the fire or in an igloo, fledging hope for the future growing on faces so long resigned in defeat. She could not deny that the North, the end of the war, had brought along with it an end to the blanket of despair so often cast over them, a start at a real chance to move forward. It was not down the road Katara would have chosen, if she had been there, but she wasn’t.

She’d made the Fire Nation her home instead and made peace with her choice because she knew that she could always carry the Water Tribe with her, make changes from afar that would lift them up. Maybe it was silly, but she didn’t think how her home might change when she left it behind.

Or how her home might _feel_ about her choices. She knew it would not sit right with everyone, still it cut deep thinking her family might not approve. Payback perhaps for her own behavior—Katara had not exactly been pleased when Gran Gran reunited with Pakku, though she hid it. There was some feeble romanticism in him coming for her after so long, but Pakku had once been a champion of beliefs that Gran Gran abhorred. He came to the South Pole repentant, but Katara had never quite embraced him like she should.

Katara wanted to gripe and glower at Pakku’s audacity and lack of foresight about her relationship, but in the end he couldn’t be blamed for valuing tradition and speaking his mind. She had known war almost all her life, but fifteen years was nothing next to eighty. And yes she loved Zuko, and had always seen the good in him, but he didn’t often let people that close. She knew ultimately her family would support her, but it was another price she was paying for this life.

She and Zuko arrived just as everyone else was filing into the room. Katara settled next to her father inside, unapologetically, but said nothing to him. Sokka sat on his other side, and there were of course enough chairs, but she wondered if she’d taken Malina’s seat and didn’t care.

Zuko was placid across the table—she commended the steely composure he hid behind with such practiced precision, even as they were both in no mood for pleasantries. She wished she could do that, but her face had always been a telegraph of her emotions.

The meeting dragged, as they always did. At least the Southern Water Tribe and the Fire Nation had _that_ in common: men who liked to hear themselves talk far too much. Zuko offered more coin, it was never enough, and its allocation was a source of bickering that felt like it could last for hours.

The last topic of the session startled her out of her disgruntled stupor—perhaps if she’d not picked so many fights that morning she would have gotten a heads up about it.

Tulimaq, a local chieftain from the nearest village, brought it to their attention, barely concealing a frown. “I believe as the initial phase of the Southern Reconstruction Project comes to a close, the matter of the Fire Nation navy ship must be addressed,” he said. “It is an ugly stain on this landscape.”

There were nods around the table—removing evidence of the Fire Nation’s sordid legacy certainly wasn’t controversial. Zuko moved promptly to agree.

“I can arrange for our engineers to remove the ship as soon as possible at the Fire Nation’s expense,” he said. 

“Perhaps we just sink it,” Hakoda replied. “Unless the Fire Nation would prefer to reclaim the ship.”

“No,” Zuko said. “I too would rather see it disposed of however you see fit.”

“The ship is corroding and even five years ago had holes in its hull,” Katara said. “If we break it free of the ice that should be enough.” 

“It took six waterbenders to trap the ship the first time,” Pakku remarked, and she couldn’t help but frown, thinking of when Hama told her the story of their efforts all those years ago. How triumphant and futile it had been all at the same time. 

Malina spoke from her new seat. “We can arrange for some benders from the North Pole to arrive within the month to help.”

“I won’t be here in a month,” Katara interjected. “Surely we can do it now.”

Talimaq shook his head. “We can’t assemble the necessary number before then,” he said, then offered her a flimsy, condescending smile. “Don’t worry, Master Katara, we will manage without you as we always do while you’re in the Fire Nation.”

In the silence, Sokka’s chair creaked because he’d shifted uncomfortably, probably knowing the shit mood she was in. She’d already practically grit her teeth to pearly little nubs, but now they threatened to crack her jaw was shut so tight.

“We have Pakku and myself,” she said evenly, then gestured sideways. “And Malina—aren’t you a bender?”

“Yes,” she said, but then gave a sheepish look. “However being from the North, I was only trained to heal. I’m not sure how much help I’d be…”

Malina shrunk back further, likely because of the intense look of disdain on Katara’s face. She couldn’t help it, frankly it wasn’t even the poor woman’s fault, maybe she had only wanted to heal, but memories surged forward of Pakku’s face wrenched in contempt telling her all those years ago she wasn’t worthy to train the way the boys did.

“I doubt Siku and Sura would be much assistance,” Pakku added mildly—they were his two oldest students, but largely untrained despite their age because they’d hid their bending for fear of the Fire Nation’s wrath. The rest of Pakku’s pupils were born after the war and too young to do much except fling snow when they threw tantrums.

“Really, it would be an honor to assist our sister tribe with this task,” Malina said earnestly. “A further sign of our cooperation and a chance to close the book on that unfortunate chapter of history.”

She wanted to fault Malina’s poor choice of words. What happened to the South Pole _was_ just a story to them, wasn’t it? A dark saga they listened to with somber expressions and then patted themselves on the back for ending. During the war, the North Pole’s assistance of their _sister tribe_ was building ice walls and shutting out the world. Maybe if Katara had been in a reasonable mood she couldn’t blame them, knowing the extraordinary effort it took to defeat the Fire Nation even with the Avatar. But her patience was fraying—mad enough at herself (maybe if she had _stayed_ they wouldn’t need all this _help_ ) that she was mad at everything else, maybe especially the Fire Nation, which sharpened dread in her gut because she wondered if all her toil there would do anything to change her new home from the place it was when the ship was trapped.

The Fire Nation had taken so much away, and now this. So bereft of benders was the Southern Water Tribe that they couldn’t even cast out the dreaded remains of that awful time by themselves. _She_ couldn’t.

Her knuckles clenched white in her robes. She could. She _had to_.

Katara abruptly stood. “As grateful as I am for the North’s offer of assistance now that the ship is empty and abandoned,” she said—her father and the rest of the table bristled at the slight but she did not care. “Please don’t worry yourselves about it now. I will handle it.”

She told herself the meeting was done anyway, so it was okay to stalk out of the room, the building, the village, with enough rage to want to split the entire shelf of ice holding up the South Pole in half.

Sokka did not follow her, maybe she was a lost cause, but Pakku would never pass up an opportunity to give a lecture. He was decently spry in his old age, though he’d only caught her because she had to stop at the edge of the village—her head was swimming and she took a few steadying breaths against a building to focus and not let herself think _what the fuck did I just claim I could do_. 

“Katara, stop this nonsense at once,” Pakku ordered once he reached her, mouth set thin. “You can’t-,” 

She wheeled around with a scowl. “Let me ask you, Pakku, how did it go the _last_ time you told me what I could and couldn’t do?”

“Do not speak to me with that tone,” he said coolly. 

“I am not a _child_ ,” she snapped back. “I didn’t even have the luxury of being a child while I _was_ a child because I was too busy ending the war that you were hiding from.” 

Pakku did not like outbursts—never had. He always looked down his nose at her with such scorn for it, perhaps a vestige of his allegedly former ways of thinking that women were only meant to be prim and proper.

“Katara.”

She let out a shaky breath, teeth clenched. “You don’t understand,” she ground out, then threw her hand sideways. “I _have_ to do this.”

“Why?” he asked.

“I’m from the south, they came for _me_. I will do what my predecessors did— _not yours_ —and-,” She choked on her words after a sharp exhale. “-and the Fire Nation isn’t that _place_ anymore and we should have a testament to cooperation, not _war_!”

“We all agree with that, Katara,” Pakku said. “But you’ll embarrass yourself if you fail.”

She would indeed, but tried not to think about that. “I won’t fail,” she said, then gave a bitter smile. “Maybe you don’t remember, but I don’t let anything knock me down.”

Pakku, not impressed by her antics, frowned further, but she turned on her heel and marched off into the snow before he could complain.

There were no paths in the snow to the ship—just fresh, deep powder that she trudged through until she hit the abandoned inlet, the black metal a stain in a flurry of white. A relic, forever preserving a great triumph but also a cursed and catastrophic time. 

She looked down on it for a few moments, marveling at the massive, jutting shards of ice, before she raised her hand, fingers outstretched. There was, predictably, a lot of ice. More than even when Hama and the others had first trapped the ship decades ago. It was the late morning now, she could sense the moon hanging low on the horizon, not full, but still beckoning to her.

“Shit,” she muttered, but the word was whisked away by a gust of wind. She dropped her hand and inhaled a breath that prickled her lungs.

There was not quiet like this in the Fire Nation. A stillness that stretched for miles over barren planes of snow. _Utterly alone_ , but not the way she wanted this time, for so long the last of her kind.

There was a persistent _ding_ breaking the fragile silence. Metal clacking against metal— _ding ding ding_. Her eyes snapped up, watering from the cold.

There was a flag on the ship, she didn’t know why she never noticed before. It was tattered, twisting—something on it was hitting the metal pole when the wind picked up.

It was red, of course, except for the black sea raven, all too familiar to her. Her shoulders slumped as she heard Malina’s words again. _Unfortunate chapter of history_. Like life was a book, a series of bound volumes that could be closed and strapped shut.

She wanted that, truly. She wanted Yon Rha’s pathetic, trembling body in the rain to have been the final note in this terrible saga of her mother and the Fire Nation—not forgiven, but the pain forgotten, filed away. She only wanted to remember standing with Kya in the snow watching the sun rise over glittering igloos.

Her mother and that landscape only existed in her head now. Maybe the place she yearned for was never real—just an idealized childhood, the product of her mother shielding her from awful and ugly things. The same things that she died protecting Katara against.

Her fingers instinctively rose to her necklace, tracing the familiar pattern, the pendant bitingly cold. The edges felt duller, eroded like a stone in a rushing creek. 

Her mother’s last words had been _I’ll handle this_. In the years after, when her anger couldn’t be contained to her own failures or the Fire Nation, she was mad at Kya sometimes. _Did you handle it, Mom? Because I left, and you died. Dad went to war. It ruined my life_.

She clung to her father’s side for weeks after, and would not venture out past their igloo, as if she left again and returned, more awful things would happen. She’d cry until she was heaving if she was left alone, tears often frozen on her cheeks and eyelashes as the dark winter crawled by. It had been the very last time she ever turned her back on anything or anyone.

Somewhere along the way not turning her back meant total control. Being everywhere and doing everything, no matter how impossible it was. And then complete denial when she failed, came back to her home that she hadn’t sculpted in her hands with her ideas or the place in her cherished memories. A price she paid for her choice without even realizing it. 

If it all had to be different, if she had to embrace _change_ , if she had to let go of her desperate need to help everyone all at once so her mother’s sacrifice was worth something, then at least she could not let the Fire Nation take this from her. It was stupid, whatever country that was didn’t exist anymore thanks to her efforts, but those men had taken so much, bit by bit, until only she was left. It was enough, at least for this, that she survived, even if Pakku or the others didn’t believe it. One glimmer of hope not polished into _civilized_ by the North and capable of ridding their land _herself_ of the specter of the Fire Nation that didn’t exist anymore. 

Katara stepped to the edge of the shearing cliff overlooking the harbor and raised her arms. Ice was less push and pull than water—it was stubborn, strong, and required sharper, more forceful movements. This amount would require intense concentration and she drew in a steady breath.

Rage had pooled in a hole in her heart as deep as the ocean for so long. She seized it—what hadn’t been drained from her bit by bit through the passage of time or expelled in the middle of a muddy road drenched by the rain.

Both her hands slashed through the cold air, muscles coiled tight. The force wrenched a scream from her, the first snap of the fragile quiet that echoed across the harbor. All the air left her lungs in a shuddering gasp soon after, pulse racing.

There was a thundering _crack_ , then her heart dropped, disappointed in the deafening silence, until a roar rushed to her ears as the ice trapping the ship calved into pieces and plunged into the black depths of the sea. The crescendo was a tremendous splash of water and the long, sudden screech of metal. The thinner sheets of ice surrounding the ship snapped too, cracks racing out in a delicate web pattern, plumes of crystalline snow blowing close behind.

The ship had cavernous holes in its hull—the water rushed in, and seconds later, all she could see perched high above, panting, knees weak, was the black mast sinking, then the red flag swallowed by white tipped waves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Predictably this has turned into a three chapter arc, so more in the SWT after this. :) 
> 
> I wanted to write this chapter for a lot of reasons, but one small, silly one was the delicious irony of this upcoming line from Sokka to Katara: "Hauling shit from the ice with your righteous fury is kind of your signature move, I guess." (I'm literally the worst.)
> 
> For those of you thinking "when can I get off this 150K slow burn hell ride," we have a handful of more chapters/arcs to look forward to, but I promise I am not dragging us through the next twenty years of this relationship. ;)


	28. Chapter 28

Katara’s herculean effort with the Fire Nation navy ship was not without cost—as she stood on the cliff side, she felt a sudden weakness in her arms, her bones, down to the marrow, and she collapsed on her knees into the snow, easing back onto her heels as she tried to catch her breath.

The emptiness of the harbor was bizarre to behold since the ship had haunted the village her whole life, but she otherwise felt drained of any other emotion. Because she was tired, but also because whatever she just did couldn’t give her the closure she was so desperate for. That was a choice she had to make, and other than being embarrassed at how her rage caused her to lash out at her own family, she was just ready to be—past it. To be comfortable in a place where change was not so abhorrent to her. 

She hadn’t noticed the cold before, but felt it now, body buffeted by icy wind. She heard a voice as the waves in the harbor settled, jagged ice floes bobbing and clinking against one another, though the sound was muffled by her pulse thrumming in her ears.

“Katara!”

Boots scuffling, closer now, and two mittens on her shoulders. Sokka, because Zuko never wore gloves.

“Hey,” he said breathlessly. “You okay?”

Katara just nodded, and he hauled her to his shoulder and put his arm around her. She could tell he had lifted his head to survey the harbor.

“Well, I suppose you showed them,” he remarked, then shook his head. “But for what, Katara?”

She was still panting. “I don’t know,” she said. “I…I was angry.”

“Hauling shit from the ice with your righteous fury is kind of your signature move, I guess,” he muttered. 

Katara tried to laugh at that, but it came out a wince. He tightened his arm against her and sat with her in silence while the cold seeped up from the snow into her parka.

“Do you…feel better?” he asked eventually.

Her shoulders slumped when a sigh left her. It was quiet again around them, the ocean calm, like nothing had happened at all.

“I’m not angry anymore,” she said. “I know I need to let go. Let this place—be something new, like everywhere else.”

“I promise it’s in good hands,” he replied gently. “You don’t have to carry all these burdens alone.”

She’d taken her mittens off to bend and laced her bare fingers together, skin chapped from the cold. “I know.” 

His eyes flicked to her, uncertain. “I’m really sorry for everything, Katara,” he said. “I was being shitty.”

She drew her head up so she could look out at the water. “No, I was,” she replied. “I dropped in here complaining about all this great work you’ve done because it doesn’t look like the imaginary place in my head. You had every right to be defensive.” 

Sokka seemed to notice the cold and hoisted both of them to their feet. She was a little unsteady, but no longer felt like she was going to pass out. She could practically hear Pakku’s words rattling around her head— _brash, foolish girl_.

“I know this doesn’t look like the place where Mom raised us, and-,” Sokka stopped, eyes searching the snow at their feet before he gave a half-shrug. “It does make me sad sometimes too, Katara. That I might forget what it was like someday, or forget her.”

Katara wrapped her other arm around him and squeezed tight, hoping to hide her glassy eyes in his shoulder. Perhaps what she regretted most of all was that the guilt she had over her mother’s death could make her so selfish (even cruel) when Sokka had lost her too, and their father had lost his wife.

“I’m sorry, Sokka,” she said, voice wobbly.

He squeezed her back. “Hey, it’s okay, it’s _not_ your fault,” he said. “We can’t do anything to change what happened, and Mom just—would want us to be happy, you know?”

She gave a feeble nod. “I know,” she said. “And I know it was just as hard for you. Everything that happened.” 

He gave her shoulder a reassuring pat. “I had you, so it was okay,” he said, then pivoted to lightness like only Sokka could. “I mean, if I didn’t have you for a sister, who else’s secrets would I blab about?”

She gave a huff and halfhearted glower. “We were going to tell him, but maybe that wasn’t the best time.” 

“Dad likes Zuko,” he said with a dismissive wave of his free hand.

“Yeah, but as a son-in-law? Which would make his daughter the Fire Lady?”

Sokka turned them back to the village—a now-sprawling swath of buildings nestled in a plain of white. She didn’t know if he kept his arm around her for affection or because he didn’t think she could make it back without help, but she allowed it.

“Think of it like a political alliance,” he said. “I mean you are practically a princess-,”

“Not that again,” she muttered.

He continued, unperturbed. “And if I get elected chief someday like Dad, our family will literally be the most kick-ass among all four nations-,”

“I don’t think Dad is worried about our family’s political prowess,” Katara remarked with a raised brow.

He looked slightly pained as they skirted around an outcropping of rocks—she considered offering to bend a sled for them to shorten the walk, but wasn’t sure if she had the stamina.

“And besides that, it’s clear Zuko is-,” He scrunched his nose. “-whatever. Super, duper into you. Like _wow_ , it’s kind of embarrassing how much he likes pretty much the most annoying little sister-,”

Katara feigned socking him in the stomach. “Oh please, like you aren’t a big soppy mess around Suki. You’d jump off a bridge if she asked you to.”

“Well, yeah, because I’m sure she’d have a good reason for it,” he replied.

“So why aren’t you two married, yet, exactly?” she asked.

He reddened up to the neatly shaved skin under his wolf tail before sputtering. “We don’t need to talk about _my_ relationship-,”

Katara gave a nonchalant shrug. “I’m happy to spill about what Zuko and I did last night instead-,”

Sokka cut her off with a disgusted sound. “Spirits, please spare me, I already saw you drinking that _tea_ , I’m not _stupid_.”

She gave an indignant squeak because she apparently had not given her brother enough credit this morning. “You weren’t supposed to-,”

“Well I did,” he interjected. “And I considered tying Zuko up and stuffing him in that ship before you sank it.”

“So assassinating him?” Katara said incredulously.

“He’s not a total idiot, he would have made his way out in time,” Sokka replied. “He just deserves a scare for _sleeping_ with my _little sister_ -,”

“Who’s _twenty_ ,” she finished.

“Irrelevant,” he grumbled. 

“Seriously,” Katara said. “Suki is amazing. Get married before she recovers from whatever head injury she’s suffering from and leaves you.”

“Oh har-har,” Sokka replied sarcastically. “I’m a great catch, you know. Muscles _and_ brains for days.”

“Is something holding you back?” she asked.

He clicked his tongue impatiently. “Your serious questions are distracting me from my self-aggrandizing.”

She gave him a pointed look. “I just sank an entire Fire Nation ship, you really want to fuck with me right now and not answer my questions?”

“I’m going to tell Toph you said that,” he replied, and her smug expression turned fierce before he hastily raised his hand.

“Alright, alright,” he said. “I just—I’m giving her an out for the winter, alright?”

“What does that mean?” Katara asked.

Sokka made an exasperated sound. “She’s sacrificing a lot to be here, you know, so I can learn from Dad,” he said. “And she’s never lived in the South Pole for a full winter, when it’s dark and gloomy and the snowy quaintness really starts to wear off…” He shrugged. “I want her to be able to decide if this is the life she wants before we’re—married, or whatever.”

“I don’t think a little cold is going to deter Suki,” Katara said. “She knows what she wants. Make it official.”

He looked over at her and shook his head. “Spirits, you’re bossy.”

“I don’t live here anymore, remember?” she began. “I only have a limited amount of time to harangue you in person about your life choices.”

“It’s called _nagging_ ,” he replied, then flapped his mitten. “Not whatever hoity-toity Fire Nation word you just used.”

“Says the guy who slipped _self-aggrandizing_ into a sentence.”

His hand was tapping his temple now. “Yeah, Katara, I’m a real smartie.”

She smacked the back of his palm so his finger jabbed particularly hard into his forehead, reminiscent of when she used to tell him he had something on his hand and then smack it against his nose when he raised it to his face. 

“Ow, hey!” he cried indignantly, while she laughed.

He rubbed the red skin on his brow and pouted. “So glad you’re feeling better,” he grumbled. 

“I’m never in a bad enough mood to not terrorize you,” she countered with a grin, though she wasn’t in a bad mood now anyway—tired, maybe, but content at the least to embrace what she did have in her life (including an overbearing older brother), what hadn’t changed, rather than let her anger and hurt drag her to the depths of despair behind the Fire Nation ship. It’s what their mother would have wanted, Katara thought, as they finally came upon the village she hardly recognized, even if she wasn’t here to see it.

====

Zuko remained at the table when Katara made her somewhat explosive exit. He fought the urge to follow her, pressing bright red crescents into the heels of his palms with his nails, but he couldn’t leave, he knew—as Fire Lord it would no doubt seem improper for him to chase after her. Pakku was quick to follow, though, and then Sokka, and there were quiet murmurs around the table Zuko tried not to scoff at.

There wasn’t a single, niggling doubt in his mind about whether Katara could rip that stupid ship from its icy cage and send it to the bottom of the ocean. Despite what the Ember Island Players thought, Katara was not some swooning, sniveling girl that merely hoped for things to happen, she _made_ them happen. She didn’t just pine, she fought. She had been hurt by the world and was _angry_ about it. She was gentle and—and _ethereal_ sometimes, but her unflinching fierceness, the rawness and sincerity in her emotions, their imperfection, that was just as much a part of her as everything else and why she was so powerful.

It was not long before they heard it. A faint rumbling, an avalanche of ice, which was not an unusual sound in the tundra, though this time he knew it was another force of nature causing it. There was much tittering about it after, when he left the meeting, though nothing unkind was said, no doubt because of his presence.

He only worried how so much bending may affect her, but from his airship where he retreated, he eventually spotted two little blue parkas trudging back to the edge of the village. Rather than rush to the house to meet them, he waited, perhaps afraid to face Hakoda, until he worked up the courage a few hours later to cross the icy canal and waiver for only a few seconds at the door.

It was quiet in the house and he climbed the stairs to Katara’s room, where there was no sound or warming yellow light spilling into the hallway. The door was ajar and he tapped it open a few inches and spotted her inside. 

His first thought was that she looked cold, having shrugged off her parka to the floor, letting the fire wane. She was sitting on her bed, hands in her lap with head bowed, sending her dark hair falling past her shoulders and around her face like a curtain.

“Hey,” he said softly—she recognized his voice so she didn’t move. “Mind if I come in?”

She nodded, almost imperceptible. He slipped inside and the door clicked shut behind him. It was cold and quiet as he crouched in front of the fire to add wood and stoke the flames higher. He then turned and dragged one of the furs piled on her bed across her shoulders.

She reacted to that, reaching out with cold fingers to grip the edge so she remained cocooned in the blanket. He crouched in front of her. She was set far enough back he could rest his elbow on the bed beside her.

“How are you?” he asked, which felt like a stupid question. 

She attempted a tepid smile, her posture loose, more at ease than when she’d been coiled tight with rage before the meeting, though her voice was small. “I’m tired,” she admitted. “Embarrassed.”

His hand soothed along her thigh near her knee. “Don’t be embarrassed.” 

She sighed, not looking at him. “I was awful, repeatedly.”

“You had reason to be upset,” he said. 

A weary scoff left her. “Not like _that_ and not really.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be there,” he said. “When you left, I wanted…”

She shook her head. “I understand. You couldn’t have helped anyway.”

“No, I guess not,” he replied, trying to bite back the bitter twist in his lips. 

It did nothing to escape Katara’s notice and she reached out to cup one side of his face. “Hey, I’m okay,” she assured him, meeting his gaze. “I feel better—I mean, about all this. I talked to Sokka.”

He leaned into her, an instinct for him now, to seek her touch, be inexplicably warmed by the cool press of her fingers. He wrapped his own hand around her wrist.

“I was thinking you should stay in the South Pole a little longer, if you wanted,” he said. 

She hesitated before faintly shaking her head. “No, I need to get back-,”

“I can manage without you, Kat, I promise. Whatever makes you happy.”

She worried her lower lip, then dropped her hand. “I wanted you to like it here.”

“I do like it.”

“I’m so sorry about those things you heard,” she said, withdrawing to wrap her furs tighter around her. 

He clenched his jaw, hating to see even a trace of worry clouding her expression. “I shouldn’t have said anything-,”

“It hurt you, didn’t it?” she asked. 

Hurt wasn’t right. Or maybe it was, he knew he would always give everything to Katara and his heart sank thinking no one quite believed it.

“I…” He stopped and rubbed his brow. “Pakku was just looking out for you. I know how it looks, I do.”

Her mouth puckered into a frown. “They don’t know you, they assume just because you’re _Fire Nation_ ….”

Katara was kind to him, too kind—some of them _did_ know him. _Remembered_ him. The insolent and callous teenager that he was.

“It will take time,” he said instead.

She only sighed at that and then wiggled out of her furs. He opened his mouth to protest that she’d get cold, but she patted the spot beside her on the bed.

Zuko pulled himself to his feet and sank into the mattress beside her, ignoring that this was much different than being in her room in the dead of night with the door locked, and especially if Hakoda showed up now, he may just instantaneously cease to exist in their current plain of reality.

Katara only took his hand in both of hers. “You know none of this has made me change my mind, right?”

“I know,” he said, gently sweeping her hair behind her shoulder to see her face better, as if he’d believe it more with those two jewel-toned eyes fixed on him. 

She leaned slightly into him, entreating. “I won’t _ever_ change my mind.”

“Not even if I go for the ponytail again?” he asked. 

Her face lit up as much as it could given how tired she was, and it made his heart stop. “Well, maybe then,” she admitted with a half-laugh. “But not otherwise.”

“Good to know.”

She rested her head on his shoulder, one hand tracing up into the sleeve of his tunic. “And you know I love you, don’t you?”

Somehow his breath always caught hearing those words, but still a slightly exasperated sigh left him.

“You’re making me look like an asshole, you being so full of affirmation today.”

Katara stopped the slow circles with her fingers. “Wait, why?” she asked. “It’s awful what you heard-,”

He rested his hand flat behind her to lean forward and face her. “You shouldn’t need to placate me today, of all days,” he said. “I want you to feel better, to not worry about taking care of me.”

A quiet snort left her. “Yeah, Zuko, I’ve done a plenty good job making today about me. Or did you not see my tantrum in front of the entire leadership of the tribe?”

“It wasn’t a tantrum, I was there,” he protested. 

She looked down at the space on the bed between them, mere inches by this point. “I’ve been selfish.”

He rested his other hand on her shoulder, but couldn’t help but skim across to the long line of her neck, into her hair. “You are allowed to have space to experience—emotion, turmoil, whatever you want to call it,” he said, putting the barest pressure on her jaw with his thumb, so she’d look up at him. “With me, at least.”

She had met his gaze as he asked, which never failed to send his heart rabbiting in his chest, after all these years still somehow unable to comprehend how impossibly blue and expressive her eyes were.

“I never have to pretend with you,” she said. 

He wanted to say a million things. That he loved her, all of her, not even _despite_ her flaws because those were so inextricably a part of the woman he adored that he couldn’t imagine being with whatever perfect version of her Aang had mooned over. She felt like a necessary piece of him—had grown into one, anyway, that he couldn’t fathom facing the world without. He knew all of this sounded fairly articulate until it came out of his mouth, so he opted for simple instead.

“No, you don’t.”

It was with slight suddenness that she kissed him, like she was somehow alight with energy, cradling his head with her hand. They’d kissed enough (a truly giddy thought) that it wasn’t some clumsy clinking of teeth, he knew how to match her and pressed his lips to hers, fully, like he’d longed to do since he saw her out by the canal so distraught. He slid a hand across her waist—it was all meant to be _chaste_ and _quick_ , but she teased him with a warm flick of her tongue across his lower lip, and he made an unspeakable sound in his throat that belied how weak he was. She responded with a pleased little hum, always so smugly self-satisfied when she pulled him apart. He wanted to call her an irritating know-it-all, but he clenched his fingers in her loose tunic instead and yanked her closer. 

She anchored her hand in the hair at the nape of his neck, and then she was in his lap, straddling him, and it was an awful, no-good idea, but his hands trailed down, under the frayed hem of her shirt until his fingertips were brushing the stretch of skin above the waistband of her trousers. He kissed her very _not_ chastely until he was panting from the effort.

He knew this was not an easy to position to change were someone to blithely jog up the stairs and open the door, looking for Katara in the _middle of the day_ and probably _not_ expecting her to be pinning down a writhing Fire Lord in broad daylight.

The desperate want making his thoughts fuzzy receded as he took a jagged breath, still completely pinned against her with his hands in not entirely redeemable places.

“You, um—must be tired,” he said hoarsely. 

She stopped, pulling back only slightly and running her hand across his scar. “Suddenly not so much anymore,” she remarked with a small smile. 

“Katara, I—I….”

She laughed, short and sweet and _perfect_ before shifting her weight back. “Relax, Zuko, I’m not going to have sex with you,” she said. “I just—have been dying to be close to you.”

Katara punctuated her words by pressing a few lingering kisses to his mouth. “Me too,” he whispered when she stopped and rested her forehead against his. 

She leaned back and soothed her hands over his shoulders, brow quirking. “You’re clearly a little insatiable, though.”

He flushed red and ducked his head. “It appears that way,” he muttered, and when she giggled, he was suddenly defiant and tightened his hold on her waist before giving her a pointed look. “Was it your plan to fuck me one time and then send me off to the Fire Nation all alone for weeks on end?”

She grinned crookedly and pushed his hair from his forehead. “I was at _least_ going to give you an encore, and it was _your_ idea that I stay here.”

Zuko opened his mouth to reply, but fate decided that what he would receive for his bawdy teasing was the feeling of his heart careening into his throat, stomach free-falling, as he heard the creak of a door downstairs, _footsteps_ ascending and-

While his life flashed before his eyes, Katara merely wiggled off him and plopped on the mattress beside him. That was not nearly enough distance to imply he was having an innocent conversation with her, so he bolted up and took two huge steps to the fireplace.

Whoever it was knocked first, which should have assuaged his concern, but then Hakoda peeked inside and he was no longer able to control his frantic heartbeat.

“Hi, Dad,” Katara said, as she waved him in.

He opened the door entirely, as Zuko pivoted on his heel.

“I’m sorry,” Zuko said hastily. “I should go-,”

Hakoda raised an eyebrow. “You’re sorry for standing in a room across from my daughter?”

Zuko resisted releasing a mortifying _um_ but otherwise blushed furiously while Katara muffled a laugh.

“Dad,” she said plaintively, and Hakoda waved one hand before walking inside and patting Zuko on the shoulder. Katara’s father seemed entirely unperturbed by Zuko’s presence in her room, despite the conversation he overheard and him now knowing that it was Zuko’s intention to marry her daughter and make her _Fire Lady_.

He tried not to read too much into Hakoda’s expression—the man generally had a laid-back, easy confidence that reminded him of Iroh, a learned sense of calm that Zuko had always envied given how needlessly intense he could be sometimes. Perhaps Sokka would mellow from his ridiculous bravado into that one day.

“I was only teasing,” Hakoda said. “I’ve heard tales of how _honorable_ you are, I’m not concerned.”

A real laugh escaped Katara then, raucous and sharp, and Zuko threw what he hoped was a half-hidden and exasperated glare in her direction that did not deter her.

“That was a good one,” she remarked.

Zuko shook his head. “I guess I see where she gets it from.”

“Probably best that you know what you’re getting into with this family before it’s too late,” Hakoda said.

“It’s already far too late for me, I’m afraid,” he replied, unthinking, until Katara blinked and flushed red, and he was afraid he’d embarrassed her, but she smiled fondly at him.

Hakoda’s brow rose a fraction of an inch—shock, anger, annoyance? He _really_ wished he were better at reading people and he could have sworn his dread made it at least five degrees hotter in the room.

“Well,” Zuko said awkwardly before Hakoda could reply. “I—I should leave you two to talk.”

He liked to think he quickly and efficiently left the room, but it was more of a panicked stagger that Katara no doubt found entertaining. He shut the door and hurried down the stairs out of the house, happy to embrace the cold air for once. A thought flickered that perhaps he should be concerned what Hakoda may say to his daughter about their relationship, but he buried it, if only to preserve the remaining threads of his sanity.

====

Though Hakoda’s arrival didn’t send Katara into nearly as much of a frenzy as it did Zuko, she still felt the warmth and contentment that had been stoked in her moments earlier whoosh out of her. Not her father’s fault, but her own, seeing him and remembering all she’d done in her thoughtless anger.

Hakoda settled beside her when Zuko was gone, and she was entirely too self-aware, embarrassed, to meet his gaze, replaying in her head the vitriol she had towards him about deigning to try to find love after losing his wife. 

“You alright?” he asked.

“Yeah, of course,” she said. “It was—way harder to bend all that ice and trap the ship then it was to break it.”

He nodded thoughtfully and then put his hand on her shoulder. “It was still impressive.” 

“I was being brash,” she said. “I was angry.”

“I know,” he said simply, and she couldn’t tell if he was disappointed, but even the possibility made her chin tremble. 

“I’m really sorry, Dad,” she said, swallowing roughly. “About…”

Hakoda shifted so he was facing her. “No, Katara, it was awful timing, and I should have been honest,” he said. “I was just…”

Her throat was so tight it was hard to get the words out. “It’s been twelve years. You deserve to be happy.”

He squeezed her shoulder. “I was more than happy before,” he said. “I had two wonderful children, your Gran Gran, everything I needed.”

She had loosely crossed her arms across her stomach. “Happier, then. You shouldn’t have to be alone forever.”

“I—think you would really like her,” Hakoda said after some hesitation. “Malina is so kind and has really come to love this place like we do.”

_It’s not the same place_ , she thought, but let the thought disintegrate as soon as it formed.

“I’d like to get to know her more,” she said instead. “I’m planning on staying a little longer.”

“Katara, don’t feel like you have to-,”

She shook her head with a reassuring smile. “I want to, really. It’s been too long since I was home. Zuko can manage without me.”

Her father did not betray any sort of _look_ at the mention of the Fire Lord, as if his disapproval was too strong to contain, but he otherwise dropped his hand in the silence and gave a sheepish look.

“Well I’m sorry that brother of yours blabbed on you,” he said. 

She gave a choked laugh. “Spirits, I wanted to wring his neck.”

He seemed relieved by her unassuming response, perhaps glad he would not have to mediate a dispute between his children. “I told Suki what he did, so maybe you’ll get a little revenge,” he said.

“Oh, I’m sure she will have a lot to say.”

He returned the smile tugging at her lip before his eyes flicked ahead in the silence. “So…” He cleared his throat. “-sounds like things are pretty serious?”

She shifted, hands clasped in her lap and attempting to salvage her smile which had twisted to an awkward grimace. Her father had been dragged away by the tides of war so early in her life, they’d never really talked about romantic relationships. She appreciated that he was trying now, was taking it seriously, but it didn’t exactly feel natural. 

“Yeah, I…” She nervously tucked her hair behind her ear. “I’ll be in the Fire Nation for the foreseeable future.”

Hakoda nodded, again—it was how he processed, never one to speak brazenly like her.

“And you—you’ve talked about it? You both want the same things?”

That did wrest a genuine grin out of her and subtle eye-roll. “Yes, Dad.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, raising his hands before a self-deprecating laugh left him. “You don’t need this from me.”

For some reason, she hated that he was pulling back. Not that she wanted the equivalent to Sokka’s overbearing attitude about boys, but there was some comfort in laying this out for someone she always thought so wise.

“I don’t mind,” she blurted out. “I even—I mean, I appreciate it. Your advice.”

He lowered his hands, looking surprised. “My advice?”

“Not _permission_ -,”

Hakoda chuckled. “Trust me, I know.”

“I just…” She absently fiddled with her sleeve before shrugging. “It was hard,” she admitted. “I love the South Pole, I don’t want to abandon it.”

“You are very far from _abandoning_ anything just because you live somewhere else,” he said.

Katara sighed. “Still, I know how it looks. What they—what Pakku thinks.”

His brow furrowed slightly. “You can’t worry about that.”

She flattened her palm against the furs beside her and carded her fingers through the soft coating of hair. “Well, do you…” Her eyes were fixed on her hand. “Do you, um, think it’s a bad idea?”

He was quiet, contemplating again, which she hated in this particular moment since it screamed _doubt_ at her. She squirmed uncomfortably, but Hakoda remained placid.

“I think that’s hard to gauge, Katara.”

She flinched—she didn’t mean to, it’s not like she expected instant adulation, but more than _this_. Her eyes had snapped up to him, her alarm apparent, because her father’s brow furrowed deeper.

“I’m not disapproving,” he said, then placed his hand over hers. “I honestly didn’t think that you—that my opinion would be all that important to you.”

“You’re my family,” she protested. “You’re my _dad_.”

He looked pained. “I’m sorry, I’m not doing this right-,”

She was so shaken, then, lungs twisted around each other and vision blurring as tears welled up. Her father was so wise in war and matters of the tribe, but what parenting had he done since he left the South Pole? What had she ever asked him for or wanted him to do, when she finally forgave him for sailing off after their mother died?

“No, no,” she interjected, sniffling. “It’s my fault, I got defensive-,”

Hakoda squeezed her hand. “You know this is not a question of whether I support you. I always will.”

“I know,” she said. “But if you’re hiding your thoughts from me, if you think that I…that it’s…”

A heavy sigh left him, and she braced herself, unintentionally tightening her grip on his fingers. “You know, sometimes it’s not easy, especially for me, to see you…” He gestured with his free hand. “All grown up. I missed a lot, and I so enjoyed you being here in the South Pole after the war, sometimes I wish it could be like that forever.”

Her heart sank, but he continued.

“But all fathers, want that, don’t they?” he said. “And that’s just not the way it is. Zuko, he—seems to like you a tremendous amount, but you haven’t chosen the easiest course.”

“No,” she admitted.

Hakoda shifted. “Whatever Pakku told you-,”

“Zuko overheard.”

He frowned slightly. “Oh,” he said. “I’m sorry, Katara.”

“If you agree, just tell me,” she said.

“You and Pakku have more in common than you think,” Hakoda remarked, to which she gave a little pout. “He’s quick to open his mouth when he has an opinion-,”

“Hey!” she said indignantly, and he patted her hand.

“Your mother was like that too,” he said with a soft smile.

All she’d ever wanted was to be like her mother, but in this case she really cared whether her father thought these immediate opinions flying around were _his_ too.

“Is Pakku right then?” she asked.

Hakoda straightened and searched the ceiling for words for a few beats before he spoke. 

“I know you’re grown, Katara, and you’ve been grown before you really should have been, but-,” He shook his head, attempting a smile. “When you’re old like me, or ancient like Pakku, twenty seems so very young. For that kind of choice, and not the _marriage_ part, the—the hardship you’ll have to endure….”

The challenges in the Fire Nation had never really scared her, no matter how insidious and entrenched the aversion to outsiders was in parts of the country. Zuko seemed to love her enough to weather any struggle, but maybe that was the point—that some easier relationships didn’t _need_ to be so desperate and intense to justify their existence. 

“I understand,” Katara said, voice deflated now. 

“To be with someone you care about and change the world like you want, it seems entirely worth it to me,” he said. “Pakku just fears that—when it’s _really_ hard, and if you’re just infatuated-,” 

She scowled. “I’m not a silly little girl.”

“I know,” he said quickly. “But even adults make mistakes. Love can feel so strong and permanent and everlasting one moment and then crash and burn the next.”

“Not the _right_ kind of love,” she insisted. 

“I know, Katara.”

Her brow creased, lips pursing tight with it. “So is that what you think?” she asked, fighting off an edge to her tone she was too tired for. “I’m blinded by infatuation and agreeing to something that will be too difficult to ever make me happy?”

Hakoda did not get defensive, or match her sharpness. He put his hand on her shoulder to meet her eyes. “Katara, being with your mother was truly the greatest joy of my life, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything, even knowing what happened to her. If you love Zuko like I loved her, then you should never let that go. It will always be worth it.”

Her rush of emotion strangled her, except for the quivering in her chin and the prickle of water behind her eyes that then trickled down her face. It tore her heart in half a million times, into incomprehensible pieces, that her father had endured so much, and it dawned on her so rarely when she was a child. That he could so surely commiserate with the gaping wound that Kya had left behind in Katara’s very soul when she died because he loved her too. That there was nothing, ever, that would soothe the pain of having her ripped away. And most of all, in the end, that it was all still worth feeling for having had her as a wife or mother at all.

She flung her arms around him and collapsed into his chest. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

He pulled her to him more comfortably, so they weren’t a jabbing tangle of limbs. “None of this was ever your fault, Katara,” he said. “And don’t ever let anyone tell you that something is too difficult to endure to ever make you happy.”

She sniffled into his tunic, damp from tears and snot. “I love you, Dad. Thank you.”

Hakoda squeezed her impossibly tight. “I love you, too, Katara.”

Perhaps not the resounding approval she may have naively hoped for, but certainly some of the best advice of she’d ever gotten.

====

The next day was the anniversary. Dread had twisted in Katara’s gut all night, multiplied, as she tossed and turned under her furs, wishing Zuko was beside her like before keeping her warm.

She succumbed to sleep at least for a few hours, and when she awake again at dawn, to invading darkness only broken by early gray and yellow light, she didn’t—feel so bad at all. No, she didn’t love the buildings out the window, but they kept her tribe warm, they were objectively impressive—not familiar, but still something to stare in awe at perhaps.

Sokka and her father had long ago shed the somber pall cast over this day. After more than ten years, they celebrated Kya’s life, pursued happiness in their lives like she would have insisted on. Katara had been solemn for much longer because she blamed herself for what happened, but after years and years, letting the anguish and terror of that day still haunt her as punishment for her weakness seemed—wrong.

They all visited the grave, shallow and piled with rocks now coated with snow. As they prepared to leave the village, Katara had spotted Malina at the back door of the house talking in hushed tones to her father, clearly hesitant to make an appearance given Katara’s behavior. When Hakoda came back inside, Katara asked him if it would be alright for Malina to come along to pay her respects as part of the family, if that’s what she was going to be someday. He smiled at her so tenderly and proudly it made her heart break, and then told her Zuko should come too.

Zuko was the picture of solemn restraint and respect out on that icy tundra, standing back with Malina in those final moments, only squeezing her hand tight when they returned since her eyes probably looked misty.

That night Zuko visited her room and tried to say the right words, maybe he practiced, but he couldn’t get them out—he told her he was sorry, so _very_ sorry, and he probably missed his own mom, too, so when he furtively turned away to wipe tears from his eyes, she just wrapped herself around him and laid tangled in her bed with him for hours. She could not deny it was thrilling sometimes to see him so strong and regal as Fire Lord, so accomplished and deserving of the confidence he carried, but who she really loved was _Zuko_ , a man unendingly earnest and strong and stubborn and unafraid to feel things deeply like she did.

Katara ultimately decided to stay longer in the South Pole, probably to the crowing delight of the other Fire Nation councilmembers, leaving Zuko to disembark in their airship alone that he promised would return for her in a few weeks. The morning of his scheduled departure, Gran Gran requested to be escorted to the harbor—Katara had no idea why, she had shown little interest in Zuko beyond their initial, mildly bloody gauntlet of chores when they first arrived, and frankly Katara was a bit overcome with dismay thinking that meant she didn’t approve of him. She’d waffled the last few days, thinking about asking Gran Gran directly, but compared to her father, the prospect of Kanna’s disapproval loomed far more perilously for her. Gran Gran had stepped in when Hakoda left, being a parent once again, a role model, and Katara hated to think with so little time left she was driving a wedge between them by choosing to embrace the Fire Nation.

Gran Gran took a bit longer to get ready in the mornings now, her joints particularly stiff from the cold, so Katara arrived early to help her along with some chores. Eventually they made their way out of the igloo, Katara carrying a heavy bag for Kanna that she said she needed for her upcoming errands. Seeing Gran Gran’s measured, shuffling steps, she gestured down the canal.

“Why don’t I make a sled for us?”

Gran Gran scoffed. “Please, I can manage. I’m not some frail old woman.”

“Maybe a little old now, Gran,” Katara replied teasingly, earning her a stiff squeeze as Gran Gran held onto her arm for support.

“It’s not such a far walk,” Gran Gran said. “It’ll be good for me.”

Katara looked out ahead of her to try to loosen the awkward set of her jaw. “You know you don’t have to—come say goodbye to Zuko or anything,” she remarked eventually.

“The boy is your intended, is he not?” Gran Gran asked. 

“Not _officially_ -,”

“He assured me he was quite serious.”

“We are. We’re just not formally betrothed or, er—even public about it,” Katara said, before blurting out more entirely selfish words. “I mean, Suki and Sokka aren’t either.”

Gran Gran gave a breathy laugh. “Throwing your brother overboard to save yourself, I see.” 

“Don’t think he wouldn’t too,” Katara countered with a crooked grin.

“Your brother knows good and well what I think he needs to do about Suki,” she replied.

Katara opened her mouth to the cold air, but hesitated for a second before speaking. “Do you…have any idea what I should do about Zuko?” 

“You don’t need my permission,” she replied mildly. 

Katara swallowed, eyes ahead. “I’m not asking, I just—I want to do the right thing, and if you’ll be disappointed in me….”

“Why would you think that I am?” she asked.

“Pakku said-,”

Gran Gran snorted. “Oh, does Pakku speak for me?” she asked, wrinkled brow raised. “Do you let that boy speak for you?”

“No, of course not,” she said. 

Gran Gran patted her arm with a heavy mitten. “Katara, you must live your life the way you want it,” she said. “I disappointed every single member of my family when I left the North Pole—I devastated my parents, they called me an embarrassment, but it was what _I_ wanted and so I was happy.”

Katara shook her head. “But they were _wrong_ , and if you think I’m wrong-,”

“There is no right or wrong, my child. Not for this.”

Katara straightened her shoulders, not despondent, exactly, since Gran Gran could be frustratingly evasive sometimes. A little like Iroh, so perhaps it came with age, years and years of understanding the complexity of life that Katara dismissed out of hand most times to demand hard, objective answers not qualified by experience. In this case, Gran Gran’s insistence on a lack of delineation between right and wrong when it came to love seemed true enough, but not a comfort when Katara considered the alternative was, _you’ll figure out eventually if this was a bad idea!_

So she said nothing in response, just adjusted Gran Gran’s bag on her opposite shoulder as they passed the walls of the village and trekked to the airship perched beside the harbor’s inlet of dark water.

The departure was a whole state affair, at Malina’s insistence. Katara, again, reminded herself of the woman’s good nature, that she wanted the South Pole to be _respected_ , and Zuko was the Fire Lord, so perhaps it would be fitting to not just send him off with a wave. A whole delegation was present, Zuko’s guards, and really all that would happen is he and her father would exchange brief pleasantries with the searing, personal _weirdness_ simmering just underneath that the Chief of the Southern Water Tribe was bidding farewell to the Fire Lord, who also happened to be his daughter’s _boyfriend_.

Katara had said her more personal goodbyes to Zuko before this, so she only offered a polite smile as she came upon him at the edge of the gangplank to the airship. A chilling wind ripped through the harbor just as she stopped with Gran Gran, and she could see his jaw twitch as he tried to contain a shiver. (Which was for the best, as the tribe endlessly ribbed outsiders who couldn’t handle the cold like them.)

They had only just arrived, not even able to hear the quiet, polite exchange between Zuko and her father, when Gran Gran turned to her.

“My bag,” she said.

Katara furrowed her brow. “Your-,”

Gran Gran gestured impatiently to her shoulder before she could finish, and Katara handed it to her. She started to protest as Gran Gran grasped it with both hands and then shuffled ahead to Zuko without having her to lean on. 

Zuko and Hakoda pivoted to her immediately, Hakoda bewildered and Zuko only barely containing a panicked look. He gave her his full attention as she stopped in front of him. 

Gran Gran let the leather sack drop to her feet as she pulled out what was inside. “This is for you.”

He stared down at it, blinking, a little stupefied, and Katara shuffled sideways once and was equally surprised, eyes wide, though no one was paying much attention to her expression.

It was a neatly-folded parka, undyed, Gran Gran’s meticulous stitching unmistakable along the edges. For _Zuko_. 

Gran Gran could have slipped it in his bags as he left, asked Katara to give it to him. She _presented_ it to him in front of the most elite members of the tribe instead. And maybe they would balk at it, not agree, think it a shame such resources were wasted on the Fire Lord, but that was Gran Gran’s right as the oldest member of the tribe. 

“Thank you,” he said hastily. “Thank you, I—I…”

Gran Gran spoke, sparing him from scrambling for words. “It’s not from the one we worked on,” she said. “But I was tired of seeing you run around in that pathetic excuse for a coat.”

Zuko had regained some composure—he was normally so impeccably stoic, cold even, as Fire Lord, this must have thrown him entirely off-guard. Her eyes stung a little thinking about it, but she told herself it was the cold air.

He accepted the parka from her, holding it like fragile glass in both hands. He bowed to her from the waist far lower than he should given his station.

“I’m deeply humbled by this gift,” he said, with such sincerity her eyes welled further with no excuse to be found. “Thank you.”

Gran Gran merely nodded in reply, never one to mince words or linger in emotional moments, and hobbled back over to Katara’s side. She took her arm once she was close enough, as Zuko turned and ascended to the airship. 

“Thank you, Gran Gran,” Katara whispered. “It means so much that you would…” 

“He’s a nice enough boy,” she remarked gruffly. “If not a little soppy.”

Katara stifled a laugh, though barely, just as Zuko turned on the balcony, parka tucked under his arm. He was clearly only looking at her, and she dared to raise her hand in a wave, beaming, as the ship disembarked and disappeared into the fog. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your patience as I carried us through a one chapter arc that ballooned into three! Being a lawyer has made me nothing if not long-winded. As always, I am so, so appreciative of everyone's feedback and comments, each one makes my day in these weird times!!


	29. Chapter 29

The rainy season began in earnest upon Zuko’s return to the Fire Nation. There was no storm this year to thrash the rocky coast, but still it was a gloomy time, weeks of gray overcast skies and pitiful drizzles that were great for farmland, but not particularly scenic from his terrace. He was a creature of the sun and missed baking under the morning light by the turtleduck pond—actually, he missed Katara most of all. He would live _inside_ a raincloud if only she were with him, but such cloying sentiment was not exactly the type he could share in their letters for fear of prying eyes coming across the correspondence. (Nefarious eyes and even if Sokka saw, Zuko would probably be teased within an inch of his life.)

Being Fire Lord had long been a distraction from his personal problems, so the additional eight weeks Katara spent in the South Pole were no different. He savored each long, adorably rambling letter she sent, until a few days before her scheduled return when her words could no longer soothe the sting of her absence.

By all accounts, it had been an awful day, one where for the past year and a half, he would have been able to tear off his robes and find solace in Katara. In her arms, but even before then, she had been a steadfast friend, an ally, and now all he had for company was an imposing stack of reports to remind him that even though it was dark, the day was far from over.

He’d picked at some food at his desk for dinner, run exasperated hands through his hair until it was a tangled mess, sat cramped in his chair for hours and become increasingly convinced that his ability to read had been somehow taken from him.

There was a gentle knock at his door sometime in this frenzy of work, and he frowned—if Uncle were here, it would no doubt be some calming tea, but in all likelihood, it was more messages, more problems, more reports. Not what he was looking for at the current moment.

“Come in,” he said through gritted teeth, half-hoping he wouldn’t be heard.

Despite his efforts, the door immediately creaked open—he hardly had the energy to look up, cheek rested against his loosely-clenched fist as he scanned the scroll in his other hand.

“If this isn’t urgent, I must insist it wait until tomorrow,” he remarked, fearing some asinine problem drawing his attention late into the night.

“Oh I don’t think it can wait, Your Highness.”

Most of the palace attendants spoke more demurely than this lilting, confident voice, and his eyes snapped up to Katara, grinning broadly. Even as perplexing as it was to see her in front of him, he still admired her bright smile and the cascade of damp hair down one shoulder.

He jolted to his feet. “Katara,” he blurted out. “What are you doing here?”

She shut the door behind her, quirking an eyebrow. “I made the very fatal mistake of falling in love with the Fire Lord, you see, and against my better judgement, I’ve shown up to his quarters after a long absence-,”

Zuko circled the desk and rushed over to her. “No, I meant—you weren’t due in port for two days.”

She took a few steps and then was pressed against him, holding tight. He immediately relaxed into her, face nuzzling the strands of hair at her temple. She smelled heavenly, clean, he tried to remember if he drew a bath that morning or rolled out of bed before dawn and jumped into his robes, and hoped it was the former.

“The crew had this crazy powerful waterbender on board,” she remarked, leaning back slightly to look at him. “Really cut the travel time.”

He had little defense against her wit, so he tightened his grip on her waist and hoisted her up so she was a few inches off the ground and at eye level. “You are insufferable,” he declared with such affection Sokka would probably threaten to vomit were he there to hear it. 

“It’s nice to see you too,” she said dryly. 

He wished he did not find her so endearing and attempted a huff.

“I had it all _planned_ , Kat, there was a nice dinner, a fruit tart made entirely of _mango_ , I cleared my schedule to spend time with you instead of-,” He pivoted with them both, attempting to gesture to his desk. “I have an obscenely early meeting tomorrow and a million proposals to read and I haven’t even brushed my hair.” He gave her a halfhearted glare. “All so you can get a modicum of smug satisfaction from the dumb surprised look on my face.” 

Katara wrapped her arms around his neck, leaning into him. “Well worth it, if you ask me.”

Zuko ducked his head, though not far, to capture her lips in a kiss that made her hum happily. He held her far tighter because if anything the press of her mouth made him realize how desperately he missed her.

She pulled back, to his chagrin, still looking entirely too self-satisfied. “You said the fruit tart was _all_ mango?”

“Yeah, and now you’re not getting any,” he said, finally dropping her on her feet. 

“Zuko, we can still _do_ all that,” she insisted with a laugh, hand sliding from his hair to his cheek. “I just need five more minutes to be close to you and then I’ll leave.”

“You’re not leaving,” he said immediately, which made her smirk. 

“Oh, no, you’re clearly _far_ too busy for me-,”

He kissed her, hard, pulling her back against him. The sound in her throat was a soft groan this time as her mouth dropped open and she surged into him with insistent hands in his hair and across his chest. He was going to get _absolutely_ zero work done, that was for sure.

“I missed you, so much,” he said hoarsely when he pulled away to take a breath. 

She bit her lip, clearly flustered, before her eyes glinted. “So _now_ he gets soppy.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” he replied.

Her thumb slid across the line of his cheek. “I missed you too.”

It felt indelicate, but he really wanted to fuck her. Not that he hadn’t missed absolutely everything about Katara during her absence—her passionate advocacy in council chambers, soft smiles by the turtleduck pond, her ringing laughter at dinner, but he was currently consumed with a desperate desire to feel her skin under his fingers, feel _her_ , and rather hoped she felt the same.

“I planned some other things that we could do now,” he remarked, lingering close to her face and pulling off a somewhat husky tone that colored her cheeks and made her giggle.

She had shoved open his tunic and traced her finger along his clavicle, skirting her eyes away from his intense gaze no doubt to try to maintain her composure longer than him. “Actually, Fire Lord Zuko, I believe during one of our conversations in the South Pole I was promised certain things in regards to our subsequent liaisons.”

“Were you?”

Katara nodded thoughtfully, eyes now flicking up to him, gaze unfairly coy through dark lashes. “You said louder.”

His mouth went slightly dry—it had been far too long since he’d seen her anywhere but his dreams. “I can do that,” he said, because more clever words seemed dangerous and his voice may devolve to a squeak.

“Longer?” she asked, leaning closer.

He grinned and gave a rough laugh. “You wound me, councilwoman.”

“I wasn’t _doubting_ you-,”

“Firebenders are famous for their stamina,” he interjected, lacing his fingers across her waist. 

She shook her head, smiling back. “Zuko, they’re really not.”

“Okay, _I_ have excellent stamina,” he replied. 

Her easy smile faded, replaced with a smirk, brow rising in a slightly defiant look.

“Prove it.”

As predicted, he did not get any more work done that night. (Work of the Fire Lord variety, anyway.)

====

Katara’s office was always a flurry of activity during the day, but people did not often burst in through the door unannounced or without introduction. Despite her rank as the junior-most councilmember, she still liked to think she’d earned a few slivers of respect, for her time, for privacy.

Except from Ming, of course.

Her sole female colleague strode into her office without preamble three weeks after her return from the South Pole. Katara was elbow-deep in the proposals that were discussed during her absence and snapped her eyes up with a frown. Before she could speak, Ming set a scroll in front of her. 

“You’re going to present this at tomorrow’s meeting,” she announced airily. She was wearing a red robe so richly dyed it almost looked plumb.

Katara sat back, frown souring further. “If you’re going to ask me for a favor, you could try throwing in a greeting.”

“Not a favor, this helps you too,” Ming insisted with a dismissive wave of her hand.

Katara made an impatient sound and unraveled the scroll. She balked after skimming its contents.

“How does recommending your daughter as Fire Lady help _me_?”

Ming was impassive to her outrage. “You are the only person yet to advise Zuko-,”

“Because I don’t care-,”

“And you must know how it looks,” she finished a pointed look. 

Katara responded in kind, lips pinched. “Like I have better things to do than worry about who the Fire Lord marries?”

“Like you care _too much_ about who he marries.”

Katara scoffed and made a show of shoving the scroll aside. “These flagrant lies disguised as gossip are nothing new to me. They’re beneath you.”

“I’m trying to help you.”

Ming seemed sincere enough as she spoke, though looked begrudged to do it. Not convincing on its own, and Katara was not surprised yet another person was rooting around for secrets that may yield a political advantage.

Probably to her detriment, Katara was painstakingly vigilant about this new romantic complication in her life. Her relationship could not be some open “secret” that nobles chittered about behind closed doors—because they wouldn’t find it funny or cute at all, they’d be horrified at Zuko’s choice in partner, and Katara would be woefully ineffective at her current job as a result until such time as she could become Fire Lady, which was the decision of the Fire Sages, not the Fire Lord.

That meant there were no meaningful looks in their council meetings, furtive hand-holding or other contact of any sort. She and Zuko did see one another some days at dinner, and she would slip into his quarters the occasional evening, but she longed to spend more than a few fleeting hours with him, to wrap herself around him in the gardens, fall asleep pressed against his impossibly warm chest.

_Someday_ , she told herself, when she yearned for more, and hoped Zuko could be patient. Now certainly wasn’t the time, no matter how Ming tried to needle her.

“I'm certain that Haruka wants nothing less than to be Fire Lady,” Katara said, knowing that looking nonplussed about these accusations was far better than being defensive. 

“The point is not that she will be,” Ming replied. “However I can't reasonably suggest her, but if you do, and it’s implied that she’s the most likely choice, then I will have certain leverage in my private business dealings-,”

Katara snorted.

“And you will at least have _some_ suspicion put off until such time as you are Fire Lady.”

Katara narrowed her eyes—she fielded silly comments about her and Zuko often, choosing to politely ignore them rather than vehemently protest, but Ming was being quite dogged and perhaps a firmer approach was necessary.

“What gives you any right to walk in here with these outlandish and disrespectful claims?”

Ming barely suppressed an eye roll. “Listen, I’m not saying you’re _fucking_ him, that’s obviously your personal business-,”

Katara jolted to her feet—overshooting probably, but she was annoyed now that Ming thought she could speak so freely and confidently about something she knew nothing about. “Excuse me-,”

“He adores you,” Ming said, with alarming firmness, then raised her brow. “There’s hardly any need to pretend.”

She paused, jaw set tight. Ming was arrogant, so perhaps her certainty could be attributed to that because Katara could think of little reason why she would insist Zuko loved her. Despite his earnest affections, he never treated her with more than polite regard when they were in front of others, becoming even _too_ detached since they’d been seeing each other as opposed to when they were friends.

“I’m not pretending,” Katara ground out. “So unless you have _proof_ -,”

“Is that what it would take?” Ming asked. “For you to admit the truth?”

“It’s not the truth, so you won’t find any,” she shot back.

“Ask Zuko,” Ming replied simply, and Katara tensed. “And then I expect _that_ -,” She pointed one manicured finger at the abandoned scroll. “-to be on the agenda tomorrow.”

Ming swept out of the room with a smug smile and no goodbye, just as she entered, and Katara collapsed back in her chair with her forehead against her desk.

She should have known her denials would accomplish nothing with Ming, just empty words poorly hiding their exact opposite. But what did it mean that she was so sure? What could she possibly have seen?

It scared Katara what someone could do with this knowledge. If Ming didn’t have concrete proof, perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad, just stoking the flame of more rumors, but this was supposed to be carefully presented to the Fire Sages in an environment _she_ could control. Zuko as Fire Lord could do what he pleased, but as the religious authority in the Fire Nation, the Fire Sages were to bless the marriage, induct her as Fire Lady—they could refuse her as an outsider, and the last thing she wanted was Zuko to expend all the political capital he’d built for the sole purpose of being with her.

Ming had been nice enough to Katara before this—at least recently, not in the first few months of her tenure—but if there’s anything she’d learned since coming to the Fire Nation, it’s that there were very few people she could trust, and even fewer who had her or Zuko’s best interests at heart.

Ming would no doubt be hideously self-satisfied if Katara ran to Zuko immediately after their conversation, so she piddled in her office, irritated, until several hours later when she arranged for them to meet in his library. (Not bedroom, not every night, anyway, since he was still obnoxiously peppered with urgent letters in the evenings and even a polite knock wasn’t going to save them if they were too compromised, except recent history had shown that even using stuffy, less comfortable rooms was not enough insurance against her need to have her hands all over him.) 

Despite his hectic schedule, Zuko was usually punctual, and she slipped into the room a few minutes after him—it wasn’t well lit, just by flickering light from the fire, casting Zuko’s shadow backwards over the couch where he sat. He wore a simple tunic with his hair unbound, longer now and yet not quite long enough.

Zuko smiled in greeting, but she did not stop or reciprocate and flopped onto the couch so hard she bounced a little on the taunt, over-stuffed cushions. He had started to offer her tea, but seeing the way she sprawled out decided against it.

“Uncle sent this new blend, if you want to try,” he remarked. 

Katara just grunted into a crimson pillow.

“Is everything alright?” he asked. 

She turned her face upward to talk out of one side of her mouth. “I had a weird conversation with Ming today.”

He scooted to face her so one leg was folded on the couch. “What about?”

“She wanted me to recommend her daughter, Haruka, as Fire Lady. I suppose it’s traditional for your entire council to try to gain political advantage by coercing you into making the _right choice_.”

“But why would _you_ do that?” he asked incredulously. 

Katara flipped onto her back and looked over her chest at him. He had already reached down to cover her ankle with his hand, dragging his thumb over the top of her foot. 

“Because everyone _else_ is clamoring to pick someone for you,” she replied. “Ming thinks it will deter suspicion.”

His brow furrowed. “But she doesn’t know anything.”

“Well she made accusations with _obnoxious_ certainty,” Katara said, rubbing her brow. “I am used to these stupid rumors, except _she_ was convinced not of our relationship, but that you loved me. That you wouldn’t chose anyone else.”

Zuko shook his head. “I don’t understand. She’s hardly a confidant of mine.”

“Nor mine,” she said, then sighed. “I would have liked to think Ming of all people wouldn’t—I don’t know, _spy_ on us…”

“We’ve been very discrete,” he said. 

Her lips dipped in a bitter frown. “Not enough apparently.”

“Kat…”

She huffed at the disappointment in his voice and sat up, legs drawing away from him. “What choice do we have?” she asked. “She had to find out somehow. I didn’t tell her-,”

“Are you implying that I did?” he asked.

Katara shrugged helplessly. “She was lying, I assume, but she did indicate that you were the source of her-,”

Zuko stood and stubbornly crossed his arms. “I haven’t said or done anything,” he insisted. “She’s just playing us.”

Her eyes flicked up to him in time to see his profile as he faced the fire, scar pointed towards the terrace, which meant she could see his brow dip sharply down, cheek twitch—as if he realized something.

“Zuko, what is that look?” she asked immediately.

He flinched and turned to her, an annoyed sound leaving him. “Nothing,” he said. 

She crawled off the couch and walked over to him. “It didn’t look like nothing,” she said. “So tell me, and we can decide together.”

Zuko frowned. “It’s not that simple.”

“Why?”

He gave a sharp wave of his hand. “It was years ago, I’m just being paranoid.”

“We have to be a little paranoid now,” she insisted.

He sighed, defeated, shoulders crowding his ears for a moment. “Ming and I had a conversation _several_ years ago after my coronation—about the war, the Southern Raiders…” He trailed off, eyes downcast. 

She hated the guilt clouding his expression, what he took responsibility for, and though her stomach lurched, she swallowed her trepidation.

“And I don’t already know about it?” she asked.

Zuko shook his head. “No,” he said, then he lifted his eyes back to her, pleading. “You have to understand, after my coronation, everything was upended, we had to purge so much of my father’s influence. As part of that, I insisted that the Southern Raiders be disbanded, of course, but in that process, I came across some…some things and…”

She stepped closer and put her hand on his chest. “I’m no stranger to what happened during the war, you don’t have to protect me from it.”

“That’s not it,” he insisted, then relented with a sharp exhale. “Maybe it is, a little. It’s all so shameful and awful, but more importantly, I thought after Yon Rha that you just wanted to move on. I wasn’t going to shove this stuff in front of you unless you asked.”

It was certainly a noble sentiment, and it’s not as if weeks after the war when she was with Aang, she would have wanted scrolls upon scrolls of information plopped in her lap documenting the foul deeds of the Southern Raiders. Before she could open her mouth to reply, Zuko had spun on his heel, striding towards the shelves lining one wall of the massive room.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

He lit the scattering of candles in that corner with a wave of his hand, brightening the room considerably. She reached his desk just as he turned with an armful of scrolls.

“I moved all the records about the Southern Raiders from the archives to my own personal collection here at the palace,” he explained. “To keep them safe in case you ever did, you know, want to see.”

“Were they not safe in the archives?” she asked.

Zuko set the scrolls down. “My father and grandfather had a habit of encouraging-,” He grimaced. “-revisionist history, and I would never want these to be tampered with or destroyed. We need to remember.”

“I—appreciate that,” she said, voice stilted. She felt a bit too overwhelmed with curiosity to sound normal, but not of the innocent sort, it was dread, utter, all-consuming _dread_ that Zuko would show her more violent, awful things about the Fire Nation and remind her of what she’d lost at their hands.

Ming’s father had been the War Minister under Azulon, and she’d cut her teeth in the military early in her career behind him. Katara thought Ming a reasonable woman, if not a little harsh and self-centered, certainly not the sort of evil person that would support extermination of the Southern Water Tribe, though she’d been wrong about people before.

Because she was with Aang, and outside the Fire Nation, Katara had paid little role in Zuko’s purge of his father’s allies from the government. It was not a perfect process—sure, he could expel those still loyal to Ozai, but even those who _didn’t_ support him had been largely complicit in the Fire Nation’s war machine. Zuko had few true allies and little ability to completely wipe out every aspect of his country’s governance other than himself.

Still, she trusted Zuko to have done everything he could, to have been as conscientious as possible about those now entrusted with the future of the Fire Nation. If he was not above redemption, then perhaps others weren’t either.

“Did Ming do something wrong?” Katara asked, swallowing roughly. “Did she…”

Zuko hastily shook his head. “Uh, no,” he said. “No, not at all.”

“I don’t understand.”

He handed her a scroll. “Here.”

Katara unfurled it—hands in a slight tremor, unable to tamp down the fear of what she’d again have to face from the Fire Nation. There were two short notes on parchment yellowed with age:

_General Sota,_

_I am writing to confirm the completion of our latest mission in the South Pole. A woman in the tribe positively identified herself as the last waterbender and the Southern Raiders disposed of her. However, Captain Yon Rha’s subsequent report did not contain any evidence of this woman actually bending, and her described age is inconsistent with our earlier intelligence that the waterbender was born within the past decade._

_We must ensure we carry out the Fire Lord’s orders and make no mistakes. I suggest that the Southern Raiders be given license to return to the settlement to ensure our mission was completed._

_Councilman Shin_

There was an additional note at the bottom, in neater script:

_Councilman Shin’s concerns have been noted. Despite conflicting reports, I am advising my father that this matter is closed. The weather has turned for the worst in the South Pole and it’s unlikely the Southern Raiders will be able to successfully navigate those waters until late spring. It will be a far better use of their time to rejoin our units in the Mo Ce Sea, as unrest in the Earth Kingdom grows. I find it a shameful waste of resources to continue sailing in dangerous waters to further terrorize a completely powerless tribe in pursuit of a child._

_Lieutenant Ming_

Katara stared at the scrawling black text longer than she needed, mouth shut tight, heavy breaths trapped and threatening to burst out of her. She dropped the scroll like it burned her, flung it across the table, clattering against all the others and sending some rolling to the floor.

Disposed. _Disposed_.

Disposed of _her mother_ like she wasn’t even a _fucking person_ , like she was a box to check or a piece of rubbish—

Her breath came out a short hiccup, and she felt Zuko squeeze her shoulder. “Katara, I’m sorry, I should have-,”

She rested her hand across her heart, feeling it thud heavy against her ribcage. How this rage could still flare in her, she did not know, but it was not new, just a grim reminder, and a full breath left her after a few moments that seemed to quell her racing pulse.

“It’s what happened, Zuko,” she said hoarsely, before another slightly shuddering breath left her. “I knew it already. I-I’m fine.”

“I’m sorry,” he said again.

She dropped her hand and turned to him. “I’m assuming you’ve gotten rid of all these men? Shin, Sota-,”

“Yes,” he said immediately. “Ming’s father died before my grandfather’s assassination, but Shin is in jail, he committed other—well, atrocities and there were more who I also summarily removed-,”

“Except Ming.” 

Zuko was quiet, face solemn. “Yes, I think she…” He stopped and cleared his throat. “I don’t know, maybe she didn’t mean it, but I think she saved your life, and by all reports wasn’t a favorite of her father’s or even aligned with him politically.”

“She did save my life,” Katara said. “She did, they would have come after me.”

She lifted her eyes to him. He was uneasy, the space between his brow and scar puckered deeply, lips pressed as pale as his skin.

Serendipity, chance, fate—these were familiar concepts to Katara, and not just the kitschy whispers of Aunt Wu. One streak of ferocious rage from a fourteen year old girl had forever changed the course of history. She sometimes wondered what would have happened if Sokka hadn’t been such an ass that day, if they’d taken the canoe a different route. Gran Gran had even warned them against going, but they had anyway. A convergence of so many little events that suddenly yanked the world off its axis.

And Ming. Twelve years ago now, thumbing through her father’s mail. Had she always disapproved of the Southern Raiders’ mission, and was this a conscious act of resistance, hiding Shin’s concerns away in a mass of correspondence? Or was it a fluke, some passing note she wrote that saved Katara’s life so that she could grow up to unleash the Avatar on the world?

In truth, her time in the South Pole had shaken her confidence in the Fire Nation. Despite the tribe’s prosperity, she could not ignore or bend away all the scars left behind by the war. She never wavered in her resolve to want to change things, knowing it was best to do it at Zuko’s side, but sometimes she couldn’t understand what sickness or depravity had overtaken this country for a hundred years and whether she could change anything at all.

To see pockets of good in this terrible time swelled the hope always in her that had been chipped away by facing these things almost every day in her choice to live here.

She let out the breath she’d been holding. “I still don’t understand, Zuko,” she said. “Is this just a coincidence? If you found this over five years ago, why would Ming think we’re together now?”

He looked sheepish. “Not…a coincidence, exactly.”

Katara tapped the abandoned scroll with her finger. “Did you show this to her? Ask about what happened?”

“Yes,” he admitted. “I was angrier about the whole thing than I perhaps should have _shown_ and she, uh, may have been my first appointment on my council the day after.”

An empty, breathless laugh left her, imaging Zuko, sixteen and so early in his reign, presenting this brittle scroll to Ming, asking earnest questions about her unquestionable act of valor in favor of a waterbending child, and then promoting her less than a day later to one of the highest offices in the Fire Nation.

“Ming’s not stupid,” Katara said. “She would have known in the end it was me that she saved.”

He flushed red, embarrassed. “It was—it was a commendable act in a slew of unnecessary, hateful ones, and I just wanted to reward someone like that. She was well-qualified!” 

She put her hand on his arm. “Zuko, it’s okay-,”

“And it was-,” He sighed and dropped his hand. “It was a little because of you. It bothered me to think one stupid note is the only thing that prevented you from being hurt again by the Fire Nation. O-Or worse.”

Her fingers tightened on his sleeve. Even in his first, tremulous steps as Fire Lord, he had longed to make things right for _her_ , the wound on his chest still fresh when he tried to give his life for her, too. She had been such a fool to kiss Aang instead of him. 

“If you were as—impassioned as you say, Ming must have known you cared for me, especially if she was your first new appointment,” Katara said. “Now I’m building a life here and we are close…”

“I’m very sorry,” he said quietly, head bowed. “I know how important this is to you.”

She tucked herself into his chest in a tight embrace and spoke with her face pressed just under his shoulder. “As long as it continues to benefit Ming, I think we can keep things discrete with her cooperation.” She shifted and peeked up at him. “And please don’t apologize for being kind and wonderful and trying to make the Fire Nation a better place.”

He pushed her hair behind her ear. “I love you,” he said. “I’ve always loved you.”

Not _always_ , she thought, but close enough, so she pushed onto her toes to kiss him. He kept his hand nestled in her hair to enthusiastically return her affection while her fingers clenched in his tunic. She pulled away with a little exhale and fell back on her heels, face upturned.

“You really didn’t remember until now?” she asked.

“I _remembered_ ,” he replied with a pout. “I’ve always known why I liked Ming, why I wanted her on the council, but I hadn’t thought she would—that my choice meant anything about _us_. I was with Mai for years, we were going to get married-,”

“Until I showed up,” Katara muttered.

“Well, yes,” he admitted, then his eyes flicked up. “But it was months after and it wasn’t _because_ of-,”

“I know, Zuko,” she assured him, though she wondered sometimes if that were true, if she was not honest enough with herself about how close she felt to him. 

“It was just a good act,” he said after a sigh left him. “That’s the kind of person I thought should…”

Katara traced her fingers down his tunic to his scar just hiding underneath. “This was a good act, too, I suppose. And I didn’t see.”

Zuko smiled slightly. “So is the conclusion that Ming is markedly smarter than both of us?”

“You anyways,” she said with a teasing look before he dropped his hand. “I’ll speak with her in the morning,” she added. “I think we need a better sense of what exactly she’s trying to accomplish.”

“She may really want to help,” he said.

Katara crinkled her nose, skeptical, before she replied. “We could use it I suppose.”

“I probably shouldn’t tell you that you’re worrying too much,” he said. 

She pressed back into him, sliding her fingers into his hair around his temples. “You’ve let this Fire Lord power go to your head,” she said, only half-teasing. “Just because you _can_ marry me, doesn’t mean we’ll be in a situation where we _should_.”

His hands bracketed her waist, gaze so intense it was almost solemn. “We will, Katara.”

Her mussing of his hair had sent some strands over her fingers into his face. She soothed them aside as she spoke. “I know,” she said. “In time.” 

She suspected that Zuko would prefer _in time_ to be _now_ , but besides the political morass of their relationship, something still settled uncomfortably in her thinking of taking on the role of Fire Lady. Perhaps it was selfish, but she was perfectly content in her little attic, spending her mornings winding the streets of the harbor with relative anonymity. Zuko had lived almost his whole life in a different spotlight, scrutinized from an early age, but in her tribe, even the _concept_ of royalty was far-flung, much less Katara _herself_ being some sort of absolute ruler by virtue of marriage. (Regardless of how princely Sokka considered himself.) She’d come to terms with it, she knew, and it was a small price to pay to change the world and be with Zuko, but she would prefer such explosive gossip to not be verified as truth anytime soon, which apparently now required cooperation with more outside parties than she might like. 

====

Ming was first to arrive in the mornings in the wing of the palace housing the offices of Zuko’s council—working twice as hard as the men for half the respect, it felt like, but Katara, scroll in hand, marched to her the next day, glistening in sweat from her long walk from the harbor and probably the kind of disheveled Ming would find distasteful.

She considered barging in with no warning to repay Ming in kind for her behavior, but with gritted teeth gave a firm knock.

Ming’s voice was muffled from the other side of the door. “Enter.”

Katara pushed inside, immediately accosted by Ming’s shrewd gaze through the gold-rimmed reading glasses she wore when she thought no one was looking. She slid them off her nose with a smirk.

“Councilwoman Katara, what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”

She strode in and shut the door.

“I asked Zuko.”

“Oh?” Ming began, standing and feigning surprise. She wore black this morning, sleeves beaded and richly embroidered with red and gold. “And are we past the silly denials now?”

Katara dropped the scroll on her desk. “It was my life you saved, I think you know that.”

Ming pressed with one finger to unroll a few lines of her note, though she likely didn’t need the confirmation. Her dark red lips pursed. “Do not mistake it for softness,” she said. “It was efficiency, we needed manpower elsewhere, and I found it idiotic that we put so much effort into neutralizing some _child_ who was the same age as my daughter, as if _that_ would win us the war.”

“It’s not-,”

Ming waved her hand. “The irony is not lost on me that sparing you indeed led to Ozai’s defeat,” she said. “But I never liked him anyway.” 

Katara shook her head. “This doesn’t explain it, you know.”

She flicked her eyes up, smirking. “Your boyfriend-,”

“Your _boss_ -,”

She gestured to the scroll. “ _Zuko_ presented this correspondence to me, and when I confirmed what I’d done, he promptly removed Shin and appointed me in his place.”

Katara crossed her arms. “It sounds like you were well-qualified-,”

“Oh, I know. That’s why I took the job,” Ming said. “But I was his first appointment, and he’d clearly done it because I spared you.”

“It could have been just as indicative of friendship.”

One brow rose in a skeptical look. “Totality of the circumstances, he was clearly in love with you,” she said. “He’s been justifiably angry about a lot of things that happened here, but he was seething, looking at that. He hated that you were in danger, and that you had been hurt. He is the boy that jumped in front of lightning for you, after all.”

Katara dropped her gaze to hide the rising red in her cheeks.

Ming gave a light sigh, hand flinging up and down her dress. “And now here you are. This beautiful, young hero, his _friend_. And he’s not exactly diving headfirst into the prospect of marriage, when he’s normally so very dutiful.”

“You couldn’t have liked me less when I got here,” she said quietly. 

“And?” Ming began sourly. “I didn’t write that letter because I knew who you were, I was—sentimental and stupid-,”

“It wasn’t stupid-,”

Ming turned sharply to stand behind her desk. “I resented that I only had my job because of the romantic whims of some teenager.”

“But that’s not true,” Katara protested.

“It felt like it,” Ming said, frowning slightly. “I have come around to you, have I not?”

“I appreciate that.”

Ming scrutinized her for a few moments, face pinched, perhaps in contempt, before she cleared her throat. “For what it’s worth, I’m—I am truly sorry for what happened. I should have stopped Shin, and my father, long before he even gave the first orders.”

Katara’s eyes widened a fraction before she broke into a soft smile, which seemed to only annoy Ming. “Thank you,” she said. “I know what you risked not bringing this to your father. I’m in your debt.”

Ming grunted. “Consider us even,” she said. “Provided you present Haruka to the council this afternoon.”

“I am _not_ admitting that Zuko and I are anything but friends-,”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh spare me.”

“But I will do as you asked, if only to dispel some of these completely unfounded rumors,” Katara finished. 

Ming faced her and folded her hands into her sleeves. “I hope you know what you’re getting into with this,” she said. “I think it’s entirely possible for you to be Fire Lady, a decent one, but you’ll need help, and it won’t always go the way you want.”

“Are you offering?” Katara asked incredulously. “Which I don’t need, because I’m not-,”

“I have told you this before, but you need to look the part.”

She huffed. “Seriously, again with the clothes.”

“The rest of Zuko’s advisors view you as a child, a little favorite of the Fire Lord, certainly _not_ someone they would respect as sovereign,” Ming said.

“What would you suggest I do?” Katara asked sharply. “Drape myself in jewels and fabric like the rest of you? It’s not who I-,”

Ming as always was unimpressed with her dramatics. She bowed slightly before her desk, scribbling something on a piece of parchment in familiar script before neatly folding it.

“This is the address of my personal tailor,” she said, shoving the parchment into her hand. “You will go to her and let her find some creative solutions to this-,” She gestured to her dress, disdain thinly veiled. “-juvenile ensemble.” 

“There is nothing wrong with my clothes,” Katara snapped.

“Do not get snippy, they are well-made and of a practical sort,” Ming said. “But you stick out like a sore thumb in our meetings because you style yourself as some bedraggled scion of the lower classes, which you can do in practice while still _looking_ regal. Older. It makes a difference.”

Katara reluctantly retracted her hand, note clenched between her fingers. She had never been one for finery or extravagant things, somehow afraid that such luxuries may trap her in a gilded cage and detach her from the experiences of those less fortunate than her. But Ming was not wrong, perhaps, that her sheer force of will and unbridled passion was not enough to earn the respect she wanted from a noble class so hung up on appearances and birthright.

“Fine,” Katara muttered. “And thank you.”

Ming gathered some papers in her arms, not even offering a _you’re welcome_ in reply, before she trotted around to the door. “As much as I’d love to continue giggling over that handsome boyfriend of yours-,” Katara growled exasperatedly because her words were apparently no deterrent. “-I have other business to attend to.”

“I will see you this afternoon,” she replied coolly.

Ming passed her, unperturbed by her icy tone before she stopped at the door with an amused look. “By the way,” she said. “And I assume this goes without saying, but don’t get pregnant.”

Katara pivoted on her heel, throwing a glare at her. “Hey, I’m still not admitting that we’re-,”

Ming barked with laughter, sharp and skeptical, as she glided out of the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oy vey, post canon! I know Katara has chosen to pursue this life, but I never wanted to pretend everything was suddenly rainbows in the Fire Nation. Clearly there will still be vestiges of this old regime, and as I kind of dug into the incident with Yon Rha, I thought, you know, he’s just a soldier at the end of the day, someone gave him these orders, so how does Katara deal with that, how does Zuko, knowing how important it was to her. And how can we make it as stupidly romantic as possible for Zuko to tear apart the things that specifically hurt Katara while she's off with Aang and laugh at how oblivious they are. 
> 
> Also do we have height headcanons for these idiots? I always thought Katara would grow somewhat statuesque—i.e., 5’6’’/5’7’’ and poor Zuko gets ribbed for being a shorty by his brother-in-law (a measly 6’ to Sokka’s 6’1’’, with Aang shooting up like a reed and being like 6’3’’). Maybe that's leaning too imaginatively tall for them, but I think we can all agree Toph remains the shortest and yet the most fearsome.


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please accept my apologies for my delay in updating! Writing is such a wonderful refuge for me from my job, but sometimes my brain is just too mushy to present anything coherent, and self-doubt has made me particularly discerning about what coherent is in this context, but I do hope y’all enjoy!

Although the joke was terribly stale by now, Katara really did rise with the moon, and Zuko in turn with the sun. It’s why at night on the rare occasion they spent any time together, Zuko would succumb to sleep if they were in bed and not actively—well, finding ways to entertain themselves, all despite his most valiant efforts.

Katara, on the other hand, usually felt wired, energy fanned into frantic flames, especially if it was a full moon. It was better that way since the palace was not her home, and when she scurried out of Zuko’s quarters, she had quite a trek back to the harbor.

She was considering, and dreading, that walk one night, her cheek pillowed on Zuko’s chest as he slept—he had earnestly promised he would remain awake, if only she’d lay with him, and yet she felt his arm around her loosen and his breathing slow.

As much as she would have liked to stay, relax in a ridiculously extravagant room that wasn’t an attic, the prudent course of action would have been to leave _before_ getting back into bed with him. She didn’t do that, lounged instead, risking some messenger bursting into the room to tell the Fire Lord there was a crisis or literal fire to put out somewhere and spotting them together. Hardly a risk worth taking since even a hefty sum of money would not contain that kind of explosive secret.

And yet. She stayed sprawled over him, quiet, watching his sheer curtains flutter around the open terrace doors—they’d been heavy and red like most of the room when he was first made Fire Lord, but he’d replaced them and she often thought about how obnoxious it was that light came streaming in as soon as the dawn broke in the mornings. It’s probably precisely _why_ he switched them, but sleeping in a warm dark cocoon not interrupted by the day deigning to start seemed far more preferable to her. 

He’d change them back for her if she asked, when they were married, but for some stupid reason her stomach still flipped at the prospect and threatened to drop right out of her onto the smooth floor of the cavernous, imposing room that she was supposed to live in someday. Katara sighed, too loud a sound, but when she peeked up at Zuko, his eyes were still closed, and she wiggled to separate them a little, the heel of her palm propping up her head so she could watch him. His pale skin, regal cheekbones she could slightly discern even under his scar. Really unfairly handsome and she tipped forward to kiss the side of his head as a goodbye before she became too tempted to watch him all night.

Just as she shifted on the mattress away from him, she heard him stir and inhale sharply.

“No, no,” he said blearily, then flung himself on top of her. “I’m awake. I am.”

She laughed. “Zuko.”

He’d caught her on her side, but she flopped onto her back where he stayed leaning over her.

“Come on,” he said, pleading. “Stay.”

His hair fell forward between them and she pushed it over his ears. “I’ve already been here later than I should.” 

“Just for one night,” he said. 

“That’s all it takes is once,” she replied pointedly. “People see me slinking out of here in the morning and it’s-,”

“They won’t see you,” he insisted.

She slid her hand down to the hollow of his throat, memorizing the dips and warm press of his skin because it was so rare to see him this way.

“They might,” she said simply.

He was quiet and she lifted her eyes from his chest to his face, mostly cast in shadow, but still she could tell he was nervous. After a moment, he took the hand resting against him. “Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad.”

She sighed, but the plaintive look in his eyes softened the exasperation in it. “Zuko, I know you’d prefer us to be more _together_ and I want that too-,”

“I want us to be _married_ ,” he said. “It’s been six months. Even more since we—since I told you-,” He stopped and squeezed her hand. “Just tell me when we can, when to ask, and I’ll do it.”

His intensity almost always set her heart racing, the determined set of his mouth, the unwavering gaze, soft but somehow the glittering gold in his eyes turned molten like he was burning from the inside out. She understood his impatience, truly. There was no doubt about their plans, their future, and it was such a fantastically appealing one compared to this tiresome sneaking around, _of course_ he’d want to dispense of it as soon as possible. 

She raised an eyebrow. “I’m not sure there’s a need to _ask_ when we’ve already agreed that we will,” she said.

“It’s not the same,” Zuko insisted.

Katara rolled her head back slightly into her pillow, hair probably less a beautiful brown halo and more of a bird’s nest.

“Why?” she asked. “Are there no take-backs after you formally propose?”

“I mean, no,” he said. “You can always—if you think it’s too much, you can always change your mind.”

“I won’t,” she replied. “I have no doubts, Zuko, if you’re concerned or-,”

“No,” he interjected hastily. “No, of course not.”

Katara pushed his hair back again to see his eyes better since it rather stubbornly came undone from where she’d tucked it. “Are you not happy?”

His brow arched in. “Why would you-,” He stopped and gave a slight shake of his head. “Of course I’m _happy_. I just—Katara, I’m _very happy_ -,”

“Zuko-,”

He straightened his arm to sit up. “How could you even accuse me of that?”

Katara propped herself onto her elbows. “I’m not accusing you of anything,” she said incredulously. “I’m trying to figure out why you’re pressuring me-,”

“Pressuring?” he repeated. “I am _asking_ because I’m….” His words devolved into defeated huff, fingers on the bridge of his nose.

Katara leaned sideways, flinging her hand over the bed before blindly reaching for the floor. Her fingers brushed her discarded tunic, and as she sat up, she pulled it over her.

“What about this is suddenly not good enough?” she asked, when he found no other words and the silence lingered. 

“I didn’t say that,” he protested sharply.

Katara crossed her arms. “Don’t act as if I’m completely blind. I can see you’re upset!”

As if somehow the truth was written on his face, he twisted away and stood, hand rising to rub his neck.

He finally spoke as his arm dropped suddenly to his side. “I’m tired of hiding, of there being nothing— _else_. Wasting my time with a bunch of women I don’t care about when I could be with you.”

She commiserated with his frustration, but she scowled, defensive anyway, since they both knew they were here because of her. It was so easy for him to want more when he forgot why they were waiting—easy to forget, too, since he wasn’t reminded of it every second of every day like she was.

“I’m sorry you’re _tired_ ,” she said evenly, though not kindly. “I know I want to be married someday, but it’s stupid and unfair for me to have to pencil a date in your calendar.”

“That’s not what I want,” he insisted, spinning to her. “I just want to understand what we’re waiting for! I’m the Fire Lord, I can do anything-,”

“You’re waiting for me, and if you don’t want to wait anymore, then don’t!” she snapped, and regretted it, of course, the dramatic things she unleashed in heated moments. The monster cobbled together from all her doubt that was lying in wait and struck when she was vulnerable, chorusing awful thoughts about how easy it would be for Zuko to marry who his advisors wanted him to, not her. 

“Katara,” he said immediately, frowning, and she just huffed and crossed her arms tighter.

Zuko ran his hand through his hair when she didn’t reply—she ignored the way his rather firm chest looked when he took a big, defeated breath in the silence.

“Listen, I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t want to pressure you.” 

And just like that she was deflated, embarrassed. Her tight grip on her arms loosened, shoulders no longer crowding her ears. She dropped her hands entirely into her lap.

“I’m sorry too,” she murmured. 

He put his hands on his hips. “I will wait forever, and I will do this forever,” he said. “I mean it.”

“Zuko,” she said, eyes rising to him, and he shook his head.

“It’s just harder than I anticipated,” he admitted.

Katara sagged back against the bed. “I know,” she said. “Trust me, I know.”

“I see you all the time, and yet it feels like not at all,” he remarked, inching over until he was close and then sitting entirely beside her. 

He wasn’t wrong. She hated to stay too late at night—because of how it looked and how long it took her to get home. Worse, when they were alone and if she wasn’t careful, their talk was all politics and work, more grinding the gears in her head, more exhausting focus on fixing the _world_ , which was about as far from instant or even medium-term gratification as one could get. 

“I think we’ve both been stretched thin lately,” she said, drumming her fingers against her ribcage.

Zuko was quiet for a moment before he laid beside her, propping his head up with one hand. “Is it too much?”

_Yes_ , her tired muscles screamed, from her long walks and her early mornings and her late nights, her sleep haunted by the tasks ahead and the failures of the day.

She hedged rather than admit that. “I don’t know,” she said. “Between going to the hospital to heal, supervising the build of the _new_ hospital, everything with the United Republic, being on your council, and well—us-,”

“You need to delegate,” he declared, as if the thought had just come to him. 

She just scoffed.

“No, really,” he insisted, scooting closer and resting a hand on her stomach. “What about your healing?”

“Those people need my help,” she said, brow arched in. 

“I know,” he replied hastily. “But you told me once that some students from the North Pole were interested in coming to the Fire Nation.” He leaned closer. “We could invite them. They’d see a new country, they could help Kaida, so you can focus on the new build.”

Guilt surged that he was feeling neglected enough to actually think about this, how to make her life easier here, when he was the Fire Lord and had the worst job of all. A heavy breath left her as she dragged her hands over her face.

“That’s not a terrible idea.”

Zuko hesitated, hand absently tracing up her leg where her tunic was pooled over her hips. “And I know it’s important to you, but….” He cleared his throat. “The harbor is a long walk to make just to get home, you could move to the very, _very_ edge of the caldera—there are some more modest homes there-,”

Katara snorted at his use of the word modest.

“ _Relatively_ modest,” he corrected. “You’d be closer and-,”

He had thought about this a _lot_ apparently, and she twisted to the side, burying her face in a discarded pillow (his bed had far too many of them), hair fanning out on either side of her.

“Zuko, I can’t afford that,” she finally said, voice muffled.

He shifted, and then she felt his fingers gently stroking the back of her head down to the nape of her neck. “We could arrange for-”

She peeked up from the pillow with one eye through her mass of curls. “I don’t want special treatment. You can’t buy me a _house_.”

“What if I arrange for something to be given to the tribe?” he asked. “If you’re going to be hosting some students, they’ll need a place to stay, perhaps they’d be more comfortable outside the palace. Like an embassy.”

Katara faced him. “I’m not an ambassador.”

“An embassy and waterbending school?”

“In the Fire Nation?” she said incredulously. 

“You’re the most powerful waterbender of our generation, you should still get to teach even if you’re in the Fire Nation. Plus it will-,” He waved vaguely. “-foster additional international cooperation.”

“Oh is that what we’re telling everyone?” she asked with an amused look. “Not that you want your secret lover in closer proximity?”

His arm buckled and then slipped under another pillow so they were face to face. “I think it’s time you live somewhere other than an attic.” 

Ming kept needling her about the same thing, she wondered if they’d discussed separately and planned this ambush. Katara knew it was well-intentioned, maybe _right_ , but somehow she hated that all the people she lived around, that she came to learn about as her neighbors, toiled away while decisions about their lives were made by those who lived so far. At least if she were there with them, she could _see_ , be their champion.

“Those people need me, Zuko,” she said hoarsely.

He pushed some tangled pieces of hair from her face. “You are not abandoning them by trying to make your life easier.”

“It’s selfish-,”

Zuko shook his head. “You’re a policymaker now-,” He stopped upon seeing the disgusted look on her face. “That’s not bad!” he insisted.

“Your other advisors just sit around and pontificate about what should happen, most times for their personal benefit,” Katara said. “They don’t _do_ anything. I do things.”

He made an exasperated sound. “I’m not asking you to be like that, but at a certain point you have to let yourself be more—well, big picture.”

“Big picture?” she repeated flatly.

“When we agree we’re going to build a new hospital, or improve rural irrigation systems or _whatever_ , you can’t be the one digging the trenches and building the walls. That’s not your job anymore. _Most_ of the time anyway, I’m not saying you can’t ever-,”

“I get it,” Katara grumbled, burying half her face in the bed. 

She felt him settle closer so they were sharing the same pillow. “Don’t be upset.”

“You’re right, I know,” she said. “It might be nice to have some help.” 

“And living here, in the caldera?”

Katara faced him again. “I could find something in the harbor.”

“It’s not a bad idea,” he insisted, then his eyes softened. “Please.”

She wished it were darker, then she wouldn’t have to try to resist the look on his stupidly handsome face. He knew how to strike when she was soft and vulnerable that was for sure, tangled up in bed wishing they had more time. 

Katara gave a huff and tried very valiantly to stop the curl of her lip, but Zuko spotted it and was insufferably smug. He reached out and wrapped his arms around her, pressing teasing kisses to her cheek and jaw.

“Hmm, is that a smile, have I won?”

Katara squirmed, but he only tightened his grip, drawing her prisoner against him.

“You’re so annoying,” she muttered to his chest. 

He smiled against her neck. “Oh I think you like me, I think you miss me at night-,”

Zuko slipped his hands under her tunic to her waist, fingers dancing across her ribcage, which wrested a gasp from her along with an inhuman squeal.

“S-Stop!” she begged, between peals of laughter, because after discovering how ticklish she was Zuko was relentless when he had the chance to pin her. Perhaps because she so often had the upper-hand otherwise.

He ceased his attentions when she asked, though, but still clung to her, her long hair having made quite a tangled mess around them.

“I’m picking the house,” she declared, glaring, when he settled back over half of her.

“But you’ll do it?”

She sighed. “Yes,” she said. “I know I—it’s time, I can see that. I’ve been promised new robes and Ming will have a stroke if she finds out I don’t have a place to store them other than a pile on the floor.” 

He kissed her once, a short sound in the silence. “See? Everyone wins.”

“Arnook has to agree to it,” she said. “This only works if I can get Kaida some help.”

“He will,” Zuko insisted, then smiled slightly. “Or your students will convince him. I believe in your correspondence to me during that time you mentioned they heard I was awfully cute.”

She chuckled. “You can take them on those little dates of yours and _really_ confuse your other advisors.”

“They’re not _dates_ ,” he protested. “They’re business meetings to gauge interest.”

Katara reached up with her hands on his cheeks, squeezing like he hated. “Who wouldn’t be interested in this face?”

Zuko merely grunted in disbelief, and then leaned down and molded his lips over hers, soon firm, insistent, the kind of kiss that usually melted her insides until she was desperate for him, but she broke away after a few moments to a noise of protest from him.

“I have to go,” she whispered.

He pouted and rested his forehead against hers. “But I’m not tired anymore.”

She slid her hands down to his broad shoulders, and he begrudgingly climbed off her. “Take your win for this evening and go to sleep, Fire Lord,” she said, scooting to the edge of the bed.

Zuko caught her hand just before she stood and pressed a kiss to her fingers. “Thank you, Katara. Really. I appreciate you doing this for me.”

Katara stopped and twisted to face him. “I want to be closer too,” she said. “And I promise I—well, I’m trying.”

“No, hey,” he said, tugging her hand, but she would stay all night if she fell into bed with him again so she pulled back until he’d been dragged across the bed. She thought about resisting, but sat in his lap when he set his feet on the floor. “There’s nothing more important to me than you and your work. I will wait. I am happier than I have any right to be just waiting.” 

She hesitated, teeth set tight. It wasn’t just the work—it was and it wasn’t, a muddled mess of emotions, and even if she hadn’t stepped foot in the Fire Nation until today, known a single soul or had a single aspiration, the prospect of ascending to this noble role at all, how much _change_ it would mean, engendered its own kind of doubt she was afraid to admit to.

She looked briefly at him before her eyes were drawn to her lap. “Listen, Zuko, I couch our whole timeline in the approval of your advisors, the Fire Sages, which I truly don’t think we can get yet, but I…” She stopped and swallowed. “Even without all that, this whole royalty thing, the—well-,” She gestured haphazardly around the room. “-all _this_ is not exactly what I’m used to or ready for, yet.”

He looked around the room, face impassive, which wasn’t her point, but how could he understand what it was to be intimidated by this when he’d known it his whole life? How pathetic was it that she felt this way, when she was supposed to be confident and brave and relentless?

“I understand, Kat,” he said, eyes shifting back to her in the darkness, a faint, encouraging smile touching his lips.

“I thought you should know,” she muttered.

He wrapped an arm around her waist. “Please, I absolutely want to know,” he said. “You don’t have to protect me or pretend you don’t have concerns. I can handle it, and I’ll fight for it.”

Katara slumped slightly into him. “I should have been more honest, I know you can do whatever you want-,”

“That may have been slight hyperbole,” he said sheepishly. “I mean, I guess if the Fire Sages refuse to coronate you I could replace them all or abolish the institution entirely.”

She almost shuddered at the thought, what lengths she’d never let him go for her. “Or we could be patient,” she said. 

He reached across and nestled his other hand in her hair, embracing her. “I can do that.”

Her eyes fluttered shut against him, her sigh a quiet, content one now, and she was only distracted when she felt him press a kiss to her temple.

“I’m leaving,” she declared suddenly, because she was being _lulled_ and that would not do, though she made zero effort to slip from his grasp when she spoke. 

His lip quirked up at one end. “You may want to put some pants on first.”

Katara huffed because she didn’t want to do any of that at all—he was so very warm and this time of year it was almost impossible to disentangle herself given how cold he made his room, maybe on purpose. Conniving jerkbender.

She reached down and pulled away the wrist at her waist, though he put up no fight. She rose to her feet, pivoting with hands on her hips. She meant to look smug and victorious, but she was suddenly cold and sad and _dreading_ her long walk back home.

“Goodnight, Zuko,” she said, and he pressed his lips to the top of her hand in reply before he slid back under his sheets. She scooped up her trousers and wrappings discarded at the foot of the bed and redressed to hopefully not so disheveled a level that it was obvious what she was doing with the Fire Lord no matter where his guards were stationed.

By the time she gathered the rest of her things and reached the door, Zuko was already fast asleep.

====

There was something wrong with the address Ming gave her—the one for the tailor—which Katara did not realize until she was wondering around outside the palace on an unusually balmy late-autumn day during the diminishingly small window of time she had off that afternoon. Time which she would have normally spent with Zuko, had he not been cohersed into afternoon tea with an eligible noblewoman (who Katara was _not_ jealous of), meaning she was free to give away all her hard-earned coin in exchange for expensive fabric.

Ming’s tailor lived in the caldera, apparently, among the sprawling estates of the Fire Nation elite. Or at least that’s what her address indicated, and it made Katara wonder whether she’d gotten something wrong or missed a trick and chose the wrong profession. She repeatedly checked the note scrunched in her palm, ink smudged from sweat, distracting herself as she walked down the street, which would probably get her decked by a fast moving palanquin, and yet she had no better clarity each time about where the hell she was going.

The correct house—she hoped—was not the most extravagant on the wide, paved street, that honor belonged to Dai, but it was certainly imposing as she hurried up a set of steps to a red lacquered door that towered over her. She ogled for too long because she heard a heavy _clunk_ and the door was heaved open from the inside.

A woman appeared, clearly planning to dart through onto the street before she stopped upon seeing Katara.

“Forgive the intrusion,” Katara said with a polite smile. “Could you please let me know if-,”

The woman’s brown eyes widened to platters, and before Katara could finish, the door snapped shut again in her face.

Katara stayed stationary on the stairs, perplexed—she knew she wasn’t popular among the nobility, but surely just the _sight_ of her was not enough to scare people away.

The door swung back open before Katara could be more offended, mystery woman at the threshold, still gaping.

“I know who you are,” she said. “Holy shit, I know who you _are_.”

Not surprising, since with her features, Katara usually stuck out in the capital anyway—

“You’re _Master Katara_ ,” she said. “The Avatar’s waterbending teacher, stormbender, the _ice lady_ -,”

“Katara is fine,” she interjected hurriedly.

The woman snapped her fingers. “You’re here to see Hong-Li, aren’t you?”

“If she’s a tailor, then yes-,”

She grabbed Katara’s wrist and dragged her through the narrow space in the door. “Mother said you may be coming,” she said, then seemed to shiver. “I just—wow, seeing you in person!” 

_Mother_ , she’d said, and Katara stopped abruptly, shoes squeaking on immaculate floors. “Are you Haruka?” she asked incredulously. “Is this Ming’s _house_?”

The woman turned, beaming. “She mentioned me?”

“Yes,” Katara said. “About the—the-,”

“Fire Lady thing,” Haruka supplied.

“Right.”

Haruka smiled brighter—she’d didn’t look so much like Ming, then, with such an open expression, but Katara could see the resemblance in the high set of her cheekbones and narrow nose. 

“Let me take you to Hong-Li,” Haruka said brightly. “We can talk in private then.”

Katara wasn’t sure what she and this literal stranger would talk in private about, but she was nonetheless unceremoniously dragged through a grand foyer with a high ceiling. Ming’s home was surprisingly airy and light for how the rest of the Fire Nation embraced décor—here there was no drowning in black and red and gold with only moody torches for accents.

Haruka led her through a maze-like assortment of hallways, and it occurred to Katara if this was some sort of trap she’d have no idea how to escape such a palatial estate. They finally reached two imposing doors and Haruka spun on her heel.

“Don’t call her a tailor,” Haruka said. “She hates that. And don’t, you know, take anything too personally.”

Before Katara could do more than furrow her brow in alarm, Haruka flitted away to open the doors, to a room overlooking a verdant courtyard. Sunlight poured in from a long line of windows, cast across truly unending rows of fabric, in a surprisingly varied pallet of red, pink and gold.

There was a rail-thin woman in the corner, probably near the same age as Ming—when she turned, her eyes, as black as a tiger shark’s, narrowed. Haruka was indifferent to the woman’s frosty reception and walked into the room.

“Li-Li, this is Katara,” she said. “Mother told you she was coming, I assume?”

Li-Li was a hysterically incongruous nickname for a woman this severe-looking; Katara wondered just how long she had been making clothes for Ming’s family if they were that congenial.

“I was told, yes,” Hong-Li said in a clipped tone, and then she strode over to Katara and was immediately _way_ too far into her personal space. Katara kept her feet planted but reared back slightly, trying not to cower, though Hong-Li towered over her despite being hardly a wisp of a person. 

“You’re not nearly as tall as I was promised,” Hong-Li finally said, then her eyes flicked down. “Though you have unusually large hands for your size.”

_Unusually_ large seemed unfair, they just weren’t dainty.

“Uh….”

She gripped Katara’s cheeks with bony fingers, raising her face to better see her. “Pretty eyes though.”

“Oh, the _prettiest_ ,” Haruka agreed.

Hong-Li dropped her hand and brushed past her to the other side of the room. “Ming tells me you have quite an irrational attachment to the color blue.”

“I’m from the Southern Water Tribe-,”

“-and lack imagination apparently,” Hong-Li finished airily, and Katara frowned.

Haruka swooped in the next moment with her hand on Katara’s arm—dainty hands, she noted, smooth, rounded nails painted blush pink. She dragged Katara over to Hong-Li, who gestured to the fabric across the table in front of her. All blue—some dark, some light, all the colors of home, including a few white pelts stacked neatly beside the bolts of fabric. She tried to be annoyed at Hong-Li’s brusqueness, but found herself unable to muster the feeling thinking she took the time to import this fabric for the express purpose of not draping her in the colors of the Fire Nation.

Katara gingerly slid her fingers across the fur while Hong-Li spoke.

“We’ll start with a set of robes for each season, then go from there.”

Katara froze, suddenly overwhelmed by the heaps of thickly-woven fabric, dyed richly, probably a custom order.

“I can’t really afford any of this,” she blurted out, brow creased as she looked over at Hong-Li. 

Haruka laughed, reedy and bright, and Katara might have been annoyed with anyone else but she seemed far too nice to be mocking her.

“You don’t have to pay,” she said. 

Katara turned to face her. “That hardly seems fair.”

“Think of Hong-Li like an artist-,”

“ _Like_ an artist?” Hong-Li interjected, scowling.

“She _is_ an artist,” Haruka amended, then gestured with both hands in a curving motion to Katara. “And you are her canvas, and she’s been commissioned by a great lover of the arts to create something _amazing_.”

Hong-Li lifted a swath to Katara’s shoulder, across her chest, seemingly unbothered by the excessive contact draping it over her required. “I would also rather take an arrow to the head than design another set of red robes,” she remarked tersely, ignoring Katara and evaluating her choice of fabric instead. “I consider this a favor.”

Ming was the one doing a favor, anyway, because Katara highly doubted all this was free, even if Hong-Li appreciated the challenge of designing something for someone not from the Fire Nation. It still bothered her, but she knew she could be stubbornly prideful sometimes, and the alternative was _Zuko_ paying for her clothes, like he used to pay for her food, and her room, and everything else. _That_ was out of the question, no matter how rich he was.

“Well, I’m—I mean, I’m very flattered you would use me as a canvas,” Katara said, but Hong-Li had already drawn the fabric away and turned back to the table to consider further.

“How old are you?” Hong-Li asked.

“I’m twenty,” she said, and Haruka beamed.

“Me too!”

Hong-Li selected dark blue next, a wool blend stretched thin that was probably more than enough insulation for Fire Nation winters.

“Barring Fire Lord Zuko, all your colleagues are almost forty years your senior,” she said, then threw a warning look at Haruka. “Don’t tell your mother I said that.”

Haruka giggled, while Katara gave a sheepish shrug.

“That’s why Ming seemed to think I needed to look the part,” she said.

“She’s not wrong,” Hong-Li replied, inspecting the blue fabric more closely before nodding to herself and continuing. “But the future Fire Lady needs to do more than blend into the mediocre milieu of her colleagues.”

Katara stiffened, sure she was blushing profusely. “I—I mean, I’m not….”

Hong-Li spared a contemptuous look down at her. “I was told I’d be dressing the future Fire Lady.”

“I wouldn’t presume to call myself that,” she replied, swallowing thickly.

“So you’re not-,”

Haruka harrumphed from beside her. “Li-Li, they’re _obviously_ in love and she _obviously_ can’t admit that.”

“Obviously?” Katara repeated weakly.

“Oh not _that_ obvious,” Haruka assured her.

Hong-Li made a disbelieving sound, and Katara considered giving another denial but figured it pointless, not in the least because Hong-Li seemed to have completely lost interest in her and their conversation. She had instead shifted her focus to a few loose sheets of parchment and nubs of charcoal, probably for sketching.

Katara turned when the door at the back of the room opened, frankly relieved at the distraction. A young woman slipped inside holding a tray laden with tea and pastries, which she set on the table in the only spot not covered with fabric, though Hong-Li immediately regarded it with disdain when it clinked beside her. Haruka, on the other hand, looked elated, thanking the attendant as she quietly trailed back out and offering Katara a small plate of flat, buttery-looking cookies.

“You must try these,” she said. “Our chef makes the best almond cookies.”

Katara grabbed one and had set a course straight to her mouth when something slapped the top of her hand.

“Eat when we’re done,” Hong-Li said sharply. “I’m not taking your measurements with you all bloated.” 

She turned with no further preamble to her stack of fabric, and Haruka winked before shoving an entire cookie into her mouth, flat ends pressing out the flesh of her pale cheeks until she chewed and swallowed it in one dry bite. 

Katara considered for a moment, then followed suit by cramming her entire cookie in her mouth, which made Haruka snicker, though Hong-Li whirled around at the sound and Katara swallowed a larger bite than she would have preferred before smiling innocently.

“I will be in my garden, I am _not_ to be disturbed,” Hong-Li said, glaring in particular at Haruka, then shifting to Katara. “You will stay here until I return.”

Katara frowned slightly. “Can’t you just-,”

Hong-Li ignored her and strode out of the room the opposite way they arrived, through a smaller door that led to the garden.

“Sorry, she can be—cranky about her process,” Haruka said after the door clicked shut. “But she’s the best of the best, so I promise it’s worth it.” 

Katara looked down at her dress. “Your mother seems to think I need all the help I can get.”

“Oh don’t mind Mother,” Haruka said, taking the time to fix her with an encouraging look as she poured their tea. “Frankly I can’t believe you’ve managed to make an ally out of her.”

“It’s tenuous,” Katara admitted, accepting a steaming cup from her. “She can be quite—er, cutting.”

Haruka nodded and gave a sheepish smile. “It’s just who she is, she doesn’t mean to be insulting,” she said. “Mother was really harassed in her career, and she doesn’t just have thick skin, it’s _armored_ with-,” She gestured to her shoulder with her free hand. “I don’t know, pointy little knives on it because she thinks she has to strike first and be tough to get any respect.”

“I think she means well,” Katara remarked. 

“Nowadays, anyway,” Haruka replied after a heavy breath. 

Katara fingered another cookie and shot a glance past the massive windows to see if Hong-Li could see her, though she was nowhere to be found.

“If you don’t mind me asking, why does Hong-Li live here?” she asked. “Why does she only make clothes for one family if she’s so talented?”

Haruka nodded as she finished a sip of her tea and swallowed. “Hong-Li is paid very handsomely to be our family’s exclusive modiste,” she explained. “Mother takes appearances _very_ seriously and Hong-Li is the best.”

“I can believe that,” Katara replied.

“They’re also lovers, so that helps,” Haruka added. 

Katara might have choked on her tea if she’d been drinking it, thinking of Ming having affection for anyone beyond herself. “Really?”

Haruka nodded. “Yeah, my father died when I was young, and most Fire Nation widows re-marry, but Mother was far too independent,” she said. “Sometimes I wonder if she loves the way Hong-Li makes her _look_ rather than Hong-Li _herself_ , but they seem happy enough.”

“I’m sorry about your dad,” Katara said.

Haruka smiled wanly and gave a half-shrug. “I was only two when he died,” she said. “He was killed, in the war, that’s how he and Mother met. As soldiers.”

“My mother died when I was young, too,” Katara said.

She looked up. “Oh, I know,” she began, then seeing Katara’s brow rise, hurriedly continued. “I’m sorry, is that weird? That we’re strangers and I know so much about you?”

“I guess I’ve gotten used to being somewhat—notorious,” Katara said. “It’s hard to blend in around here.”

Haruka blushed. “I’ve seen _The Boy in the Iceberg_ like eight times. The remake, of course!”

Katara still grimaced—after the war, the smash hit of the Ember Island Players was reworked to reflect the _actual_ end to their saga, and Sokka further exerted his _connections_ with the cast to soothe the exaggerated (and offensive) edges of their characters, though Toph vehemently insisted she remain cast as a muscular man. Certain scenes (lies) were retained for their _narrative complexity_ , but Katara still found the whole endeavor ridiculous.

“I wouldn’t call the play historically accurate,” she said mildly.

Haruka bounced a little on her heels. “My favorite scene is with you in the North Pole. Oh! Or the crystal catacombs.”

Katara blanched. “That was entirely fabricated-,”

Haruka looked personally hurt by this revelation. “ _Entirely_?”

“I mean, no, we were in the catacombs-,” She stopped and made an exasperated sound. “It was— _something_ , it was, just not romantic.”

She set her cup down. “You didn’t kiss?”

“I don’t think I would have kissed Zuko if my life depended on it,” Katara replied incredulously. “Which was for the better, he betrayed me after and I thought I’d never…” She stopped her literal _gabbing_ and shoved half a cookie in her mouth. “He’s very different now,” she said, after she swallowed. 

Haruka hesitated before shuffling closer to her. “We aren’t going to tell anyone,” she said. “I know we’re strangers, but it benefits us—well, _Mother_ , if people think I’m his first choice for Fire Lady.”

Katara hesitated, jaw clenching on reflex to hold back the words forming on the tip of her tongue. She’d given little thought to this whole intrigue, perhaps for her sanity, though as predicted it had sated Zuko’s other advisors. They argued endlessly over the choices each presented, obsessed with finding an appropriately noble, docile woman to act as Fire Lady and stewed quietly that Zuko was ambivalent about the matter, though if he refused to participate entirely they’d have a different problem. It was nearly impossible to be jealous given even in the fleeting moments they shared, Zuko was so desperate to end this farcical game and marry her. He probably exaggerated his griping for her benefit since sitting for tea with pretty, polite girls was better than anything else he had to do as Fire Lord, even if he wasn’t interested in any of them.

Haruka was not so polite given how eager she was, but very, very pretty. Katara had known that already because when she proposed Haruka for Fire Lady as Ming requested, Zhen made some comment about them having particularly _handsome heirs_ if she were chosen, and even Zuko, who normally kept his expression an impressive deadpan, visibly flushed at the mention. 

Katara thought it funny at the time, but looking at Haruka now was maybe a little annoyed at how right Zhen was.

“Would you—I mean, be first choice?” she asked, attempting nonchalance.

Haruka shrugged. “There are things we can do to imply that-,”

Katara’s face must have dropped because she scrambled to correct herself with one hand raised.

“No, no, not _that_ kind of thing,” she insisted hastily. “I cannot emphasize enough how little romance plays into it. I mean, I’m pretty sure you don’t even kiss at the _actual_ wedding ceremony so, you know, it’s just—us sitting for tea together more frequently than the others.” Haruka waved her hand. “They say I’m a good pick since I lived in the Earth Kingdom for a while when I was estranged from my Mother and am from a family that’s not going to be blatant favoritism to one of the other older noble lines that fight all the time.”

“That makes sense.”

Haruka looked a little abashed. “I only agreed to the idea when Mother said it would help you,” she said. “But if you’d rather…”

Katara shook her head. “No, I appreciate that you’re willing to do this,” she said. “It’s the path we’ve chosen given how controversial this will be. I don’t like having to buy time this way, but I suppose we didn’t have much choice.”

“I’m sure it’s been hard,” she said. “All the secrecy.”

For some reason Katara stopped the polite response that instinctively rose up her throat— _I’m fine, it’s worth it, it’s not so bad_ —because lately it had been hard to say it with any gusto, especially given her and Zuko’s discussion a few weeks ago.

She tapped her second cookie against the delicate rim of her tea cup before shyly casting her eyes upward. “You know, it’s not been as easy as I thought,” she admitted. “Not that I ever believed it would be _easy_ , but sometimes I lose focus and just want…”

Haruka scooted fractionally closer. “It’s so unfair what you have to be weary of,” she said. “The Fire Nation shouldn’t care so much about where you’re from.”

“They do, though, a lot,” Katara said. “And Zuko is…” She hesitated and bit back the rest of her sentence, nibbling on her cookie instead.

“It’s all terribly romantic, isn’t it?” Haruka said, smiling slightly.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

Haruka blushed again, a sheer pink on her pale skin. “That you love each other enough to put up with everything else.”

_Romantic or naïve_ , she thought, depending on the person, hearing Pakku’s words again and her father’s softer ones, but she cast those thoughts aside. 

“I’m not just here because of Zuko,” Katara said. “I want to help.”

“People will see that,” Haruka replied. “They _do_ see that.”

Katara had hope for that, like always, though it was hard to have hope in spades when faced with the irrational hate that still hung heavy on the faces of so many nobles.

“Some, anyway,” she finally said. 

“For what it’s worth, I think you’ll be an amazing Fire Lady,” Haruka said, then leaned conspiratorially closer. “And Mother does too.”

Katara smirked, assuming Ming would be mortified to hear such emotional admissions, but it was some comfort to know the powerful politicians of the Fire Nation could be won over, at least to some degree. In the moments when she hated the secrets, the waiting, the time apart, progress on that front was most uplifting of all. Though as she massaged her reputation among the nobility perhaps it would help if she _lived_ here too.

She opened her mouth to reply, but Haruka gave a little gasp that cut her off.

“Oo, she’s coming!” Haruka hissed, gesturing to the far window where Hong-Li was stalking down the garden path back to them, black robes cutting an imposing picture against the foliage.

“We should hurry,” Katara whispered back, and between muffled giggles they finished off the plate of cookies before Hong-Li opened the door.

====

It took Katara some time, but in the few free moments she had over the ensuing weeks, she devoted herself with vigor to finding suitable accommodation in the caldera for her and the other waterbenders she was in the process of coaxing over for a visit to the Fire Nation. The two sisters she had trained—Nutha and Lirin—were now fifteen and sixteen, too young according to Arnook to set sail for the capital, despite Katara’s myriad assurances that they would be adequately supervised. A compromise was only struck because the girls’ cousin, Taina, had agreed to accompany them. She was only a year younger than Katara and an accomplished healer in her own right. Katara had not spoken to her much in her time at the North Pole, though had heard rumors of a jilted engagement that could perhaps explain why she was eager for a change of scenery.

Reaching an agreement with Arnook made her need for housing quite pressing, a situation not helped by the fact that the caldera was over-priced and packed with the Fire Nation elite who had exceedingly extravagant taste. Katara had little desire to buy a palace for herself, but was finding precious other options.

Eventually after much wandering of the wide streets around the palace, she found an amenable solution not at the edge of the neighborhood but right at its center, a portion of a grand estate formerly owned by a Fire Nation noble clan that had fallen on hard times after the war.

The Katashi family was not an ancestral line of nobility from the capital in a traditional sense—though they’d been around for a hundred years, a handful of families claimed the caldera as home pre-unification, which made a century seem young in comparison. The Katashi’s had purchased their estate at the onset of the war, on account of the wealth they accumulated from the astronomical rise in demand for metal to sustain the Fire Nation’s war apparatus. The Katashi’s owned rural property brimming with iron deposits that were easily accessible compared to their competitors—meaning they could sell at the same price with better profit margins.

It all came crumbling down, though, thanks to a determined band of teenagers, ending the war and the aspirations of spend-happy families who profited from commodifying the Fire Nation’s penchant for violence. There was still demand for iron, for airships, commercial vessels, but the Katashi’s had bet big on war. When their mines ran dry, they leveraged their wealth to invest in the manufacture of tundra tanks and other war machines. (Including Azula’s failed drill from Ba Sing Se, which was the first crippling blow to their coffers.)

The Katashi’s fled the capital for their ancestral rural estate a year after Zuko’s reign began, leaving their palatial home to be picked apart and partitioned into parcels of land that were easier to sell. The final piece, a long neglected guest house beside a man-made lake the family had built for the scorching Fire Nation summer, was one of the few places Katara could envision herself. 

The house was dilapidated, neglected even before the Katashi’s abandoned the caldera. It was a long, wooden structure with two stories and a large, gently sloping tile roof in desperate need of repair, nestled at the edge of the formerly sprawling estate and gated in by high, white stone walls. The inside was even worse off, but not distastefully _Fire Nation_ —it had been stripped of most valuables, leaving behind natural, unpainted wood and white plaster lit by shuddered windows on each wall.

The neat edges of the garden surrounding the house were overgrown, half-dying, the standing water in the stone fountains stagnant and in need of cleaning, but Katara saw possibility that wasn’t pretentious like the other “small” parcels of land in the capitol that were literal palaces.

Katara was not one to be deterred when she set her sights on something she wanted, though knew she needed one crucial piece of outside help to ensure a successful sale—money, and a lot of it. Though it pained her she could not finance the venture on her own, she knew she needed to be better about accepting help, and opening the doors to further cooperation between the Water Tribes and the Fire Nation was a good reason to derive some personal comfort from the Fire Lord’s coffers. 

Zuko’s approval was frankly perfunctory, but still she would not miss a chance to collaborate with him under the cover of Fire Nation business. He had a gap in his schedule one day because bad weather had delayed the arrival of some Earth Kingdom diplomats he was supposed to meet, and she wrote him, asking to meet. He appeared in his cloak at the house as she requested, grinning broadly as he slipped through the ajar gate. The fact that he was so excited to be out of the palace doing something with her in a personal capacity broke her heart a little, but she was too happy not to smile back.

“I got your note,” he remarked, once he reached her and pulled down his hood. “Are we alone?”

“ _Zuko_ ,” she said, in what was supposed to be a warning, but her eyes lit up and in the next second he was pulling her into his arms and off the ground to kiss her.

Though he had been too impatient to wait for an answer, they _were_ alone, so she dragged her fingers through his hair and kissed him back, until his mouth inched open and she pulled away.

“Not _that_ alone,” she said with a laugh.

He pressed his lips to her one last time. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages.”

Katara hummed and stroked his cheek. “Was my presentation two days ago on rice subsidies not titillating enough for you?”

He thought for a moment. “I suppose it would be romantic for me to say that it’s enough just to see your face and hear your voice,” he said, then squeezed her waist. “But I’ve grown quite fond of the other things we do.”

She smiled slightly, arms circling his neck, though she doubted leaning more into him really helped when he hoisted her up. “You don’t even mean sex, do you? You romantic sop.”

“It’s somewhere on the list,” he replied.

“Before or after feeding the turtleducks together?” she asked, quirking one brow.

He opened his mouth and then stopped himself. “You know I can’t think of an answer that won’t get me in trouble.”

“You could say tied for first,” she replied.

“Second,” he corrected, and when she furrowed her brow, he smiled sheepishly. “First is when you fall asleep with me.”

Her immediate instinct was to swoon, which was so irritating a reaction she scowled and gave a huff instead. “Spirits, you’re insufferable, you know.”

Zuko smirked, which expression quickly faded when she grabbed fistfuls of his cloak to kiss him again, in the very _alone_ way that set any chance of proprietary completely ablaze. The kind of kiss that made her knees weak and desperate for the nearest horizontal or frankly vertical surface with her hands under his shirt and tugging down the waistband of his trousers—all awful, _ridiculous_ things because she was not a grabby, pining teenager unable to keep her hands to herself in public places and yet she was so smitten with him sometimes it was all she could do not to leap into his arms the moment she saw him. 

Her feet fell back against the mat of weeds under them after a few moments, giving his hands more freedom to slide across her waist and then lower as he kissed her with a fervor implying he had _zero_ qualms about their current vantage point.

Katara gave a little groan into his mouth and pulled away, panting, having crushed his lips to a vibrant red.

“Zuko, you are here to look at this house,” she said exasperatedly. 

“ _You_ kissed _me_!” he protested with a short laugh, and then lifted his head to look behind her. “And that is not a house.”

Katara stepped from his arms and twisted around, brow creased. “Well of course it is,” she said. “It has a roof and walls.”

“This is part of the Katashi estate, isn’t it?” he asked, and when she nodded, he gestured dismissively. “This isn’t where they _lived_ , this was some meditation house or extra space for guests who’d fallen out of favor-,”

She scoffed. “It has _six_ bedrooms,” she said. “Don’t turn all spoiled Crown Prince on me.”

“Fire Lord, you’ll recall.”

Katara gave him a withering look that only intensified his incorrigible grin. “I also recall the Fire Lord agreeing to set up a waterbending school where _I_ wanted,” she said. 

“Ah, yes,” he replied, resting his hands back on her waist. “To foster additional international cooperation.”

“Well I want it here,” she said, gesturing the other way to the overgrown mats of brown and green around them. “The garden is really impressive and there’s already a lot of water.” 

Zuko’s eyes flitted over in that direction, skeptical, before he shook his head. “Whatever you want, Katara, you know that.”

“There’s potential,” she insisted. “With a little work it will be perfect.”

“I believe you, I do,” he said.

She took a few steps towards the house, easing out of his grip. “Plus I still have a few months before the girls arrive.”

“Probably best to rid the place of any nesting animals before then,” he remarked, warily eyeing the roof line which did have a suspiciously bushy clump of twigs nestled under a curved eve, before he looked back at her. “Have you bought this place already?”

“I spoke to the broker whose facilitating the sale of all these pieces of property,” Katara said. “I asked to meet the owner directly since technically I only want this lot and the surrounding gardens—he’s coming now, which I thought was a bit quick, but since you’re supplying the coin I wanted to make sure you’re-,” She gestured vaguely to him. “-on board, I guess. Not that you’d tell me no, would you?”

“Seems unlikely,” he replied. “Do you want me to stay to discuss the sale?” 

“No,” she said. “Though I’m sure you’re quite good at greasing elbows, I don’t want to imply anything improper.”

Zuko only nodded, though he looked incongruously amused as she explained the minutiae of real estate to him.

“What’s so funny?” she finally asked, hands on her hips.

He crossed his arms, smile breaking so she could see the white glint of his teeth. “Nothing, nothing,” he said. “It’s just, I can’t believe you don’t know who you’re meeting right now.”

She frowned slightly. “I told you, I only met with this intermediary, there are so many individual parcels that the owner can’t-,”

“Dai bought the entirety of the Katashi estate after the war, Katara,” he said.

She stared at him, flabbergasted, before an annoyed sound left her. “You cannot be serious.”

Zuko chuckled. “You know he’s in real estate.”

“Yes, but _my_ real estate?” she demanded incredulously.

“It’s his, at the moment.”

Katara rubbed her face. “He’s going to be so _smug_.” 

“He always is,” Zuko said. “But he’ll sell to you. We’re probably lucky it’s him.”

“I know,” she said, then more quietly: “Other nobles aren’t so fond.”

He reached up and gently touched her cheek. “Their stupidity is not your problem.”

Perhaps not _her_ problem, but definitely _a_ problem. “I’ll be a consummate neighbor, so maybe that will help,” she said with a shrug.

“As long as I’m still your favorite neighbor,” he said, pulling her closer. 

She tilted her chin up to him. “Well I’m moving away from Lee so I guess so.”

“Oh _hilarious_ ,” he deadpanned, and she giggled, earning a teasing squeeze from him. “Do you want me to make jokes about the women I’m forced to tea with?”

“Well I guess just warn me if one of _them_ takes their shirt off,” she said.

He snorted. “I think the most I’ll get is a suggestive eyebrow wiggle.”

Katara proceeded to very dramatically pump her brows up and down. “Like this,” she said, continuing. “You like that, Your Highness?”

Zuko gave a sharp laugh and dramatically cringed. “Oh stop you’re so lame-,”

“I’m very funny!” she protested indignantly.

He nodded, clearly patronizing her, and she thwacked him on the chest before he buried her in a hug that sent them both staggering. He clung to her for far too long, but she couldn’t deny that being gathered up in his strong arms was one of her favorite things and particularly enjoyable given it wasn’t her usual mid-morning activity. Plus he’d eschewed his formal robes, meaning she could feel his warm skin just under her fingertips.

“When is Dai coming?” Zuko asked, not freeing her from his embrace and instead speaking into the crook of her neck and shoulder.

She spared a glance to the gate behind them. “Soon.” 

He leaned back, but only to push his hands into her hair to cup her jaw. “Can I see inside the house?” 

His voice had a very familiar warm rasp to it, which only earned him a glare in this case. “Absolutely not,” she said. 

He pressed closer, undeterred. “I think we need to foster some additional international cooperation, though.”

“We _cannot_ make that a euphemism, Zuko, someone will say it in a meeting and I’ll lose it,” she said, snort-laughing rather inelegantly. 

“I might like to see that,” he replied.

Katara poked his chest with her fingers, urging him back a few paces as he untangled his hands from her hair. She lamented the loss of his warmth despite it being the logical course of action.

“Leave now and I’ll internationally cooperate with you tonight, alright?” she said, then tried another suggestive wiggle of her brow. “Twice.”

He shook his head. “No deal, that’s not even our personal best.”

“It’s hard breaking records when you keeping falling asleep,” she shot back, grinning. 

Zuko feigned offense, then grabbed her wrist and yanked her against him so he could kiss her cheek. “You’re lucky I like you so much,” he muttered against her temple.

She kissed him back. “I think so too.”

He was arrested, as always, by her compliments—she wondered how long it would take before they weren’t surprising or hard to believe. She kissed him twice more in rapid succession. “Very, very lucky.”

“I am too,” he countered. “Now anyways.”

With painful histories like theirs, his meaning was plain, and though her heart ached for him, perhaps it was enough they were happy now. She lifted her hand to his face, but before reaching him, there was a rattling near the gate, the sound stopping her, and she peeked over his shoulder—just the wind, but she stepped back anyways.

“You should go,” she said. “Thank you for coming.”

He nodded in agreement. “Always, Katara,” he said, and then he was kissing her goodbye and pulling his hood back over his head. He left from the other side of the house to not cross paths with Dai.

She watched him disappear around the corner, and when he was gone, toured the gardens a bit more, which only reminded her of how much work there was to be done. 

Dai was late, maybe a power move, but eventually while she was inspecting some wood rot near the front door, she heard the crunch of grass and a stampede of footsteps. Dai had attendants with him, because of course he did, who opened the ratty wooden gate entirely so he could glide through, his silk robes shining in the mid-morning sun. He was smirking, and Katara resisted scowling in return.

“Councilwoman Katara,” he drawled, and she barely suppressed an eye roll. “Imagine my surprise when I learned that you were interested in real estate in the caldera, owned by yours truly.”

She crossed her arms. “You could have just told me it was you.”

“Don’t rob an old man of his chance to have the upper-hand,” he replied, and she scoffed.

“I can only imagine what you will ask of me in exchange for this,” she said. “But do not think I am so attached, there is a _lot_ of other real estate-,”

“Also owned by me, I suspect,” he interjected dryly.

“Are you going to sell or not?” she asked.

His smirk intensified. “You’re lucky I did not deed this land to Ryu,” he said. “He’d want to marry you in exchange for the house.”

“Excuse me?” Katara said incredulously—because if there’s one thing she was sure of, it was that Dai’s spoiled, condescending son had little interest in a Water Tribe peasant.

“You’ve made quite a name for yourself,” Dai replied. “You may find yourself the target of some adventurous and noble-born men wishing to leverage your political power now that you desire to live among the Fire Nation elite.” He feigned an innocent look. “Unless, of course, you’re already promised to someone else?”

“You have the subtlety of a cudgel,” she replied acridly. 

Dai chuckled. “There’s no need to worry in any event. Ryu has found himself a suitable match from the Earth Kingdom.”

She paused and furrowed her brow. “The Earth Kingdom?”

“Yes, indeed,” he said. “A very pretty, very rich girl from Ba Sing Se. He was there on business when they met.”

“And you’re…okay with that?” Katara asked.

He put his hand to his chest. “You’ll forgive me, Master Katara, but why the sudden personal interest in the cross-cultural marriages of the Fire Nation nobility?”

“You are presumptuous and _arrogant_ ,” she growled, though her tone lacked the vitriol of their past encounters.

“Terribly,” he replied. “But not wrong, either.”

Katara’s arms tightened over her chest. “I will buy this house from you or Ryu or _whoever_. With _money_. No favors, no gossip-,”

“I’m not going to give you a discount.”

“I didn’t expect that you would,” she bit back. 

“I will sell you this house, for money,” Dai confirmed, and Katara’s shoulders almost slumped in relief. “And an answer to one question.”

Katara frowned. “If you ask about the nature of my relationship with Fire Lord Zuko-,”

He cut her off, eyes meeting hers. “How long do you intend to stay here in the Fire Nation?”

It was certainly a vague and roundabout way of asking about her intentions with the Fire Lord, but an answer wouldn’t confirm anything and she—well, she really wanted this stupid house.

“I’ll be here until my work is done,” Katara replied with a polite smile. That was _never_ , they both knew, but Dai betrayed nothing and merely pivoted to the house.

“Then I believe we have reached an agreement,” he said. “Welcome to the caldera, Master Katara.”


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's hope I am not setting a record each chapter on how long it takes to update! Thank y'all as always for your support and comments, we are a bit in the home stretch (just a teaaaaaspoon of angst left), and I am so thankful for those who have continued on this slow burn trash journey with me!

It was winter—a mild, Fire Nation winter—by the time Katara was standing on the docks ready to welcome her students from the Northern Water Tribe to the shores of the capital. To her chagrin, she had been _big picture_ in the work on the house, meaning she did not clamor onto the roof to replace the heavy terracotta tiles or fix the broken window shudders, no matter how much she itched to do it, because Zuko insisted she focus on her current work and found help elsewhere to make the house habitable and gardens pristine. At first, she missed the simplicity of life in the harbor, but knew these were all necessary changes to secure the future she wanted.

Alone, the house felt massive to her, despite being modest by the standards of the Fire Nation nobility. The outside had not been restored in typical Fire Nation style, so even if it wasn’t a palatial estate, it was an unapologetic and foreign presence in a place normally dominated by red and gold and black. More progress, or controversy, maybe, a sign of what they were forging with the United Republic, intertwining nations that were formally at war.

Soon she wouldn’t be alone, though—a house of one would shortly be four, which she preferred anyway, having lived with her family in close, icy quarters and then surrounded at all times by Aang, Toph and Sokka.

Her new roommates (or wards, more accurately, because anything that happened to them was _her_ responsibility) arrived on a cold day by Fire Nation standards that felt like a South Pole summer afternoon. Katara wanted to give them a proper welcome, so she cleared her schedule and dragged Kaida along. The grouchy woman pretended not to be excited about the additional hands, but having three healers instead of one very busy one was going to help a lot of people.

Still, Kaida complained, if only to make a sport of it. “Why did you drag me all the way out here?” she asked, sour as usual, as they were waiting and being jostled by the crowds at the docks.

“It’s called a welcome party,” Katara replied evenly. 

Kaida snorted. “A bunch of teenage girls would much rather see the Fire Lord than some old woman.”

“Zuko is busy.”

“Or you didn’t even ask,” she grumbled. 

Katara huffed and cut a look at her. “You really think he just drops everything for me?”

“Uh, yes?”

She suppressed an eye roll. “Well he can’t drop what he’s doing now, it’s important,” she said, then frowned slightly. “Sort of.”

“Sort of?”

She immediately regretted opening her mouth. “I didn’t—it is important,” she said hastily.

Zuko keeping up appearances about his intention to marry to avoid the inevitable firestorm if he sat around doing nothing at such an eligible age _was_ important, but she couldn’t help feeling guilty thinking about the charade. It was easy blaming it all on the Fire Sages, or backwards-thinking advisors, but when _she_ was holding back, too, she felt like she couldn’t also be jealous or impatient. 

Kaida was merely watching her while she spiraled, brows raised. 

“It’s a meeting—thing,” Katara explained awkwardly. “There’s….we have to-,”

“You know I’m sensing a little underlying frustration in your tone,” Kaida remarked, amused about it, of course.

“How astute,” she said dryly, then heaved a sigh through her teeth. “It’s just a disaster of—of emotion.”

“I hate those.”

Katara crossed her arms and pivoted to her. “It’s a secret, you know. This thing with…”

“The Fire Lord.”

She glared halfheartedly. “ _I_ want to wait—we _should_ wait, but waiting means pretending he’s considering other options, or I’m pretty sure his advisors and the Fire Sages would stage a coup, and I keep telling myself that it’s my fault we’re in this position, and yet I still find myself frustrated with it sometimes-,”

“You’re allowed to be upset when you make a difficult choice,” Kaida said. “That will end this conversation sooner, right?”

“Oh, fine,” she muttered, not half as irritated as she wanted to be since Kaida did succinctly summarize her dilemma. She knew it wasn’t the right time, and yet she lamented her lack of meaningful interaction with Zuko all the same, which only made her feel like a hypocrite.

Kaida shifted her weight between her feet and made an exasperated sound. “This situation isn’t your fault—well, other than your objectionable decision-making about throwing your lot with the Fire Lord-,”

“Hey,” she said defensively. “Zuko is really great-,”

She made a disgusted sound. “That was not an invitation to be sentimental. There’s nothing wrong with _him_ but who he _is_ certainly makes your judgement questionable.” 

That sounded nonsensical, but Katara could partially discern its meaning—what she learned long ago, which was loving Zuko meant so much more than just being with him, given the role thrust upon him. Not even that, the role thrust upon whoever he chose as his wife. 

“Someone has to do it,” Katara said.

“Oh I think you like it,” she replied, small smirk on her otherwise stoic face.

She crossed her arms tighter and pouted, pretending to face the open ocean ahead of them to survey the incoming ships. Kaida let her stew, her desire for no conversation apparently stronger than her desire to tease Katara more.

The air was crisp and clear that day, so she spotted the Water Tribe ship as soon as it appeared in the harbor, cutting through choppy waves to the edge of the newly renovated docks.

A boat with billowing blue sails was not so unfamiliar in the capital. For years now, Katara had worked to establish rapport through the economics of trade, to repair the relationship between her home and Zuko’s, understanding through exposure, but theirs was not a history of fond memories, and she often feared that the progress she hoped for would never be achieved.

A lot was riding on this current endeavor to bring waterbenders to the capital, Katara’s promise that it would teach the girls anything valuable at all. The North Pole had been secluded for so many generations that it was a big ask to send anyone, and she hoped she hadn’t leveraged her influence there for a program that would end in disaster.

To her surprise, the girls appeared first at the edge of the gangplank thrust from the side of the moored ship. Nutha and Lirin, both short with wide, dimpled smiles, practically skipping down to the dock, while another tall and solemn-looking girl trailed behind them.

“They’re _teenagers_ ,” Kaida said exasperatedly beside her.

“Taina is my age, but yes, the others are younger,” Katara said, then gave a pointed look. “Open-minded, eager to learn-,”

Kaida cut her off with a disbelieving snort.

She raised her hand in supplication. “You’re right, next time I’ll invite grumpy old women so you have someone to talk to.”

Kaida almost bit out a snide remark, but the girls had quickened their pace with little shrieks of glee.

“Katara!” 

She knew Kaida would roll her eyes at it, but she beamed back as the girls rushed over, holding out her arms to hug both sisters tight.

“It is so good to see you borh,” she said, stepping back to give them the once-over. They were wearing their heavy parkas and both flushed red. “Oh, spirits, you must be sweating.”

Nutha nodded. “Literally _dying_ -,”

“We’ll find you some suitable clothes,” Katara insisted with a wave of her hand. “You’ll love it this time of year, it’s my favorite type of winter.”

Lirin craned her neck towards the Royal Plaza and the rolling hills beside it. “It’s so _green_ ,” she said, and Katara chuckled thinking of the time years ago when all she knew was snow and white and ice. 

Taina offered a much more subdued greeting, not nearly as bright-eyed or excited as the other girls, which meant Kaida might find _some_ kindship with her despite their age difference.

Katara could not find it in her to contain her own excitement—while Lirin and Nutha were overwhelmed and elated by everything _new_ before them, she was instead walking with a full heart looking at something so familiar. Fellow waterbenders, in the Fire Nation, once again keeping her from being the last of her kind in any particular place, which she’d been for so long. She only hoped it lasted, and that they too could find the beauty in the place she was making her home.

====

Zuko would typically enjoy an afternoon in the gardens on a day like today—a cloudless sky, brisk, winter air, but instead of spending a few hours by the turtleduck pond or with Katara, he was striding down a well-manicured path with a tidy stone of dread lodged in his throat.

He hated these meetings, truly. They had not happened often, maybe once every two or three months after endless discussion on the topic, when he would finally have his arm twisted enough to find time to meet with an eligible noblewoman. All stately and perfectly-coiffed girls who thought the Fire Lord would value a woman being so demure it was bland.

Despite the fact that personality compatibility hardly mattered to his advisors, Zuko was still forced to pretend to contemplate with appropriate severity who he would select among the veritable pantheon of noble Fire Nation daughters set before him. He wanted it to stop, but it couldn’t, not really. His advisors did not demand he find a wife at sixteen, in the chaos of the post-war world, but then he was eighteen, nineteen, twenty, he pretended he wanted to marry Mai, and they were so utterly convinced of it, his break-up sent them spiraling.

At twenty-two, what could he do but pretend, with the monarchy so precariously balanced in this age of hope and peace? Katara didn’t want to be married now, couldn’t do her job if everyone knew what they were doing, and from his other advisors, he needed cooperation, not outrage about his refusal to marry—well, marry who they wanted him to. 

Today, in the game of pretend, his advisors had arranged for him to sit stoic with Ming’s daughter, Haruka. He’d never had occasion to meet her before, but Katara had said nice things and at least Haruka had tacitly agreed to meet with the understanding nothing would ever come of it.

In the gardens, Haruka was waiting by a small table beneath a towering maple tree, crimson leaves hanging on increasingly barren branches as the cold set in. She stood when he was a few feet away, offering the appropriate obeisance before she spoke.

“My Lord.”

He considered dispensing with formalities given Katara’s assurances about the girl, but only nodded in acknowledgement before he sat. She followed, settling primly down and adjusting the skirt of her robes.

There was always tea, served in china flecked with gold filigree in various ornate patterns. He usually drank so quickly it was borderline improper, but it ended things faster.

Back when Ozai was Fire Lord, most of the court pitied anyone thrust before his father given his erratic and volatile nature. Zuko was far more patient, not inclined to stoke fear in every person he came across, but he could muster _some_ sympathy for the girls tasked with sitting across from him and extracting any sort of coherent conversation from someone so catastrophically unequipped at social interaction.

That’s why silence was a third, looming specter at these meetings. It frankly made him thankful for Katara because if she’d rebuffed him, and he had to be doing this for _real_ , despite the prestige, these women may decide being Fire Lady wasn’t so great a prospect after all.

Usually the conversation was jump-started by a discussion about the type of tea being served, but Haruka spoke before then, as the attendants approached to serve them.

“You should tell them to leave,” she whispered, eyes downcast and hands clasped loosely in her lap.

Zuko went from stoic to woefully confused, brow scrunched near his scar. She said nothing else and placidly fixed her eyes on the tea set.

He contemplated as his cup was filled, and when he lifted his head to thank the attendant, he did as she asked.

“I don’t think we require anything further, you’re dismissed,” he said. “Thank you.”

The attendant bowed in assent before scurrying off, past their designated spot and down the path out of the garden. Zuko said nothing, in the silence—they weren’t _really_ alone, but certainly _more_ alone, which made his stomach churn.

Haruka’s shoulders dropped, as if losing tension. “Looks better if you want to talk with me in private,” she remarked. 

“Oh.”

It was a good point, though bold. Implied favoritism, but his advisors may not care that he actually _liked_ Haruka (or pretended to). He should have thanked her for her help, maybe talked about Katara, but he instead somehow felt too hot and stuffy in his robes to speak.

“They’ll have a lot to say if we sit in silence,” Haruka finally said. 

He knew precisely who _they_ was and suppressed a grimace. “That happens more often than they’d care to admit, I think.”

“It is a little terrifying to be shoved in front of the Fire Lord,” she admitted with a faint smile. 

“Given my predecessors that is not surprising,” Zuko replied, bringing his cup to his lips for a small sip. 

Haruka absently poked at the bottom of her own cup, apparently no longer trapped in the polite façade that overtook the other women he met.

“Well, you seem—um, very nice?”

He almost snorted. “No, I don’t.”

“Stoic, then,” she said, then a shrug further dropped her shoulders. “-which is better than raging and psychotic, I guess.”

Zuko raised his eyebrow, and a faint blushed colored her pale cheeks.

“Sorry,” she said sheepishly. “I probably shouldn’t say that about your dad.”

“I mean, he was both of those things,” Zuko muttered.

That very effectively quashed the conversation—maybe both their faults—but any mention of his father tended to have that effect. He took a few large gulps of tea while she watched the ripples in her cup when he set his down.

“Could you eat a cookie?” she asked, with some suddenness.

“What?”

She gestured to some round cookies set on bone china and nestled among the delicacies that were almost always untouched during these meetings. “I like these, I’ve had two. You’ve had none, and if I have one more without you having any, it’ll be a whole _thing_.”

“A thing?” he asked. 

Her hand flung behind them to the palace. “They’ll say I’m going to have an uncomely shape, or worse that with such an unladylike appetite, I’m secretly pregnant or something,” she explained, then rolled her eyes. “Gossip tends to reach dramatic heights in this stupid place.”

“Oh I’m aware,” he said, though he reached for a cookie as she’d asked.

She sighed. “I wish I could say they don’t watch that closely-,”

“They do,” he said, and perhaps when he was younger he would have sounded more dejected, but it was just reality now. 

Haruka grabbed a cookie after him and nibbled on it as the conversation lapsed again. She shifted after a few moments.

“We shouldn’t look so dour.”

“It’s kind of my default,” Zuko said. 

Haruka’s gaze lifted to him. “How about I ask you some questions?” she suggested. “Easy ones, I promise.”

“I suppose I can’t stop you,” he replied, and if Katara were here, which of course she wouldn’t be, she’d elbow him in the ribs and tell him to _be nice_ , but his patience was tested enough by this charade.

Haruka thought for a few moments, looking tempted by another cookie, despite still chewing her last.

“What is your favorite book?”

“Pass,” he said immediately. 

Her polite smile widened. “That just tells me it’s embarrassing,” she replied. “You could have lied and said _The Art of War_ or something.”

Zuko just grunted because he’d rather die than admit he liked _Love Amongst the Dragons_.

She was not deterred and wrapped both delicate hands around her cup. “What’s your favorite kind of tea?”

“It’s all hot leaf juice,” he said. 

“Mine’s genmaicha,” she said, then tapped her painted nails in a nervous staccato against the edge of her cup. “What is….your favorite color?”

Zuko gave her a critical look. “That’s a silly question.”

“Don’t say red,” she said with a warning tone.

“It’s not red.”

“ _Not red_ isn’t a favorite color.”

He gave what was probably too dramatic of a sigh before looking down at the table. “….blue,” he eventually muttered into his lap.

She _beamed_ , a glistening white smile that looked like it hurt her cheeks, tired eyes suddenly alight at the prospect of _romance_ , and he groaned, which only seemed to intensify the glee in her voice.

“I should have passed,” he said sullenly.

Haruka leaned forward. “She has the prettiest blue eyes-,”

“We are not having this conversation,” Zuko cut in with a frown. 

“Why?” she asked, unperturbed by his tone. “It benefits _her_ if you look at least a _little_ happy during this conversation.”

“To _them_ -,” He gestured back to where she had before. “-selecting a Fire Lady is not about me being happy.”

“It should matter,” she protested.

“It doesn’t.”

Haruka leaned back a little in her cushion, raising a well-manicured eyebrow. “You’re a little relentlessly negative, you know that?”

“Realistic, you mean.”

That seemed to deflate her a little, he immediately felt guilty for it, as she stayed quiet and took a sip of her rapidly cooling tea.

“I’m sorry,” he said eventually and he hoped his sincerity was apparent. “This is all very uncomfortable for me.”

She shook her head. “It’s alright, I understand,” she said, then paused. “I mean, I’ve never been the Fire Lord so I can’t _fully_ understand, but I can see how you wouldn’t want to spend your time this way. It’s weird even if you were actually looking for a wife.”

“It’s not personal,” he said. “And I appreciate that you’re willing to help, I understand your life must be on hold too.”

Haruka gave a surprisingly harsh laugh. “Oh, don’t worry, I’m not itching to shack up with any of these arrogant Fire Nation idiots, you’re doing me a favor too.”

Sokka would certainly like the moniker _Fire Nation idiots_ and he let a small smile tug at his lip.

“It won’t be forever,” he remarked, looking down and clearing his throat.

Haruka laced her fingers together like a hammock to prop her chin in—it made her look particularly interested in their conversation, which anyone who was observing them and knew him would probably suspect was a farce.

“When are you going to propose?” she asked.

Zuko resisted frowning further and tried to soothe the wrinkles in his brow. Maybe she was right it would help if he didn’t look so sour at her just trying to discuss a topic that arguably did involve her to some degree.

“When Katara tells me she wants me to,” he said.

“That’s not very romantic,” she pointed out.

Zuko rubbed his brow. “It’s a little difficult to be romantic at this point.”

“Just because it’s not traditional doesn’t mean it can’t be romantic,” she said.

“It’s definitely not traditional,” he muttered in agreement.

Haruka leaned closer, smiling broadly again. “That’s what makes it such a great story.”

He snorted, but said nothing. In his mind, their _great story_ had not reached a satisfying conclusion, so he’d rather not have to endure some poorly composed sequel to _The Boy in the Iceberg_ covering this part of their relationship, though he had a hard time complaining as stridently as Katara about the playwrights since they’d somehow spotted their romantic tension without meeting either of them.

It made him cringe, thinking he could be that transparent, and he desperately hoped that wasn’t the case now. Haruka had taken to sipping her lukewarm tea in the silence, and he cleared his throat before pasting a smile on his face for the rest of the afternoon—if they were going to keep pretending, he may as well be good at it. 

====

Hong-Li was not finished with Katara’s dress until two weeks after the girls arrived from the North Pole. _Art takes time_ , Haruka had explained brightly, while Hong-Li glowered beside her after taking her final measurements. Katara was more than happy to wait, of course, and only visited Ming’s estate once she got word it was ready.

She would have brought the girls with her—Lutha and Nirin had a morose fascination with the grotesque displays of wealth in the caldera—but they left the house each morning for the harbor to heal, and Kaida was unlikely to relieve them from their duties since the woman had (begrudgingly) admitted they were a huge help. Though Taina was more subdued about it, all three seemed to be enjoying their time in the Fire Nation. Katara feared the initial excitement may wear off soon, that they’d miss home or find the pockets of malice still lingering in the capital, but was determined to bury such anxieties until something bad _actually_ happened.

Their otherwise full schedule meant Katara crossed the few streets to Ming’s estate alone, where Haruka greeted her excitedly, with an entire breakfast prepared that she was directed not to touch when she had her new outfit on or even before then, so Hong-Li could confirm it fit properly. (Advice patently ignored, as Ming’s cook could do more than make almond cookies and Katara was starving.)

Hong-Li was, as expected, not particularly emotive about the new outfit once it was on her. She merely paced, chin nestled in her fingers, while Katara stood stiff on a pedestal.

The dress was controversial. Perhaps right on message for Katara because in a way _everything_ she did was controversial, her very existence in the Fire Nation, and apparently Hong-Li decided she would not disguise that.

Dark blue dominated, the color of the frigid waters of the South Pole. Katara hadn’t even had to ask—Hong-Li knew she had a Water Tribe heart, no matter where she lived or how long she spent somewhere else. They weren’t Fire Nation robes dyed blue, or her Water Tribe dress with a dash of red. It was entirely its own style, perhaps because she had to be too. 

The sleeves were probably the most modern—shocking—of all, with no extra, billowing fabric to speak of, instead cut to her wrist because Katara _did_ things and didn’t need the extra weight, which was far more consistent with the practical white wrappings she used to wear. There was a leather waist belt, too, like what she wore when she was home, except Hong-Li had embroidered it in swirling, wave-like patterns of gleaming gold thread, the same pattern as along the band collar.

There was red—dark, like the skin of ripe lychee nuts. The skirt of the dress below the belt was open at the front, replaced with red fabric that fluttered when she walked unlike the heavier wool of the rest of the dress, though even that was stretched thinner than she’d ever seen in the South Pole. Her long sleeves had a cut out too, basically red bracers with the same point that covered the top of her hand. 

Her mother’s necklace blended seamlessly, the cool stone in the hollow of her throat nestled between the opening of her collar. Somehow Hong-Li had known that it needed a special place, to be on display, or that she’d never want to cover it again. (Truly an artist, not a tailor, but Hong-Li would never let her get that sentimental.)

Hong-Li hummed at one point during her inspection—it sounded like approval, before a heavy breath left her and her hands fell to her sides.

“I’ll work on spring next,” she said. “No wool.”

Katara pivoted in a little shuffle on her pedestal to face her. “Thank you so much-,”

Haruka burst into the room then, she’d left to request more tea, and gave a sparkling smile. She proceeded to _gush_ , and her exuberance could be considered grating to some, but frankly in this situation, it was nice to be showered with compliments, even if only half were true.

“You look-,” she began, then stopped, taking a half-breath to prepare for her onslaught. “-stunning. So sophisticated and elegant, but just _effortless_. You are going to be the most beautiful woman in that palace-,”

“Which we are _not_ going to say outside of this room,” Hong-Li interjected, no doubt because Ming probably considered herself the most beautiful, though before Katara arrived there wasn’t much competition among the senile men of the Fire Nation council.

“You look like a Fire Lady,” Haruka said earnestly. “Really.”

Katara risked a look at the mirror in front of her. She was right, Ming was right—maybe not the Fire Lady without a crown, but this commanded respect, exuded poise, everything she thought about Zuko when she watched him sit stoic across the table from her in his own regal attire. It didn’t scare her as much as she thought, didn’t feel like some betrayal of her tried and true dress that got her through the war and felt like such a part of her.

Still Katara, in blue, at the end of it all, which is exactly what she wanted.

====

Zuko was in his office, lost behind a seemingly insurmountable pile of scrolls, when he heard a knock at his door. He peered up, in time to see Katara poke her head into the room and smile at him in greeting. She usually waltzed in during her visits, so he found it a little bizarre to see just her disembodied head against the black lacquered door, dark hair falling from her shoulder.

Still a welcome sight, especially this early in the afternoon, a product of his pleas that she live in the caldera and shift her myriad of responsibilities to other equally capable people. Half self-serving, but half for her, too, because he knew what it was like to be burnt out, or overworked, and the last thing he wanted was for Katara to feel that way. The fact that she had more time at the palace as a result was merely a happy accident. 

“Are you busy?” she asked. “Can I show you something?”

“Not too busy for you,” he replied, setting down the parchment in his hand.

Her eyes brightened and she scooted through the ajar door before it shut behind her. It was immediately clear what she wanted to show, she held out her arms a bit and twisted her hips to make the dark blue skirt of her new dress sway.

He didn’t speak right away, which was wrong, he realized, when she spoke soon after. “Is it too simple?” she asked, arms wilting. “I know it-,”

“No, I love it,” he blurted out. “Kat, it’s great. You look—it’s…”

Her mouth split into a bashful smile as she crossed the room. Upon closer inspection, he could see Hong-Li’s creation was impeccably made, maybe a little simple, but sophisticated. He would never forgive himself if Katara draped herself in the sometimes garish clothing of the Fire Nation nobility. It was more Water Tribe, too, the practical fitted sleeves, the fur lining the bottom.

Nestle a crown in her hair and she’d cut a dignified picture beside him. His stomach flipped at the thought and he promptly told himself to shut the fuck up. 

“I look old, don’t I?” she said. “Stuffy.”

He reached out and slid his hands across her waist. “Only if I do.”

“That’s not helpful,” she said with a teasing look.

He pulled her closer, flush against him, somehow it was alright this time there was entirely too much fabric between them. “Katara, you look amazing.”

A flush rose to her cheeks, dark like the flashes of red fabric in her dress, and she kissed him, too briefly, before she drew back from his grasp.

“Apparently Dai has been trying for _years_ to get Hong-Li to make something for him,” she said, soothing her hands down her front, changing the subject as always from his compliments. “With no success, of course, so he is going to be _incandescent_ with envy when he sees me.” Her lips quirked in a smug look. “It’s going to be very satisfying.”

He wasn’t paying attention, he absolutely _should_ be, but his brain felt fuzzy, dunked in freezing water and flailing, her voice a muted warble. His eyes had trailed down to his desk—he certainly couldn’t look at _her_ , thinking about what was in the top drawer of his desk. Months ago (and then most nights after) he spent at least a few minutes staring, pathetically, at the ornate box nestled in the drawer. Inside was a crown, like his, once worn by his mother and if he were lucky enough, maybe Katara someday, which he thought about more than he’d like to admit.

Perhaps not even of his own volition, Zuko extracted it from the drawer and presented it to her, wordlessly, he was so _incompetent_ and she stopped what she was saying and faced him, brow puckered.

She stared at him, probably waiting for an explanation for why the fuck he was bandying this thing around out of the blue. He felt hot under his collar and scrambled for some rational explanation to his behavior.

“It—your dress—made me think of….er, that you…” He trailed off, swallowed, and then spewed more nonsense. “We could do something different. If you wanted, if you don’t like the flame…”

Katara said nothing in return, just reached out and dragged her fingertips gently over the box. He felt guilty, suddenly, and resisted wrenching backwards, though apologetic words spilled out of him. 

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have—this is dumb, I don’t want to pressure you-,”

She gave a light chuckle. “Zuko, it’s just a headpiece,” she said, then pried open the box. “A hunk of metal.”

Still, she hesitated when it appeared, nestled in red velvet, all sharp golden edges glinting in the afternoon light. She picked it up, weighing it in her hand again.

“I like your idea,” she remarked. “About something different, but maybe we don’t melt it down right this instant.”

“Right,” he said hastily, then set the box aside. “Katara, I’m sorry, I don’t even know why I….”

She shook her head. “No, come on, we both know Hong-Li made these clothes with a rather—regal future in mind,” she said, then pricked her finger against the sharp edge of his mantle and gestured to the point on her sleeve that stretched over the top of her hand.

“You guys like things severe and pointy,” she said. “I imagine this was an attempt at symmetry.”

“Is the next step fully matching outfits?” he asked with a wry look.

Katara grinned, then lifted the crown to her head and set it in the top half of her dark hair. “I think the matching headpieces will suffice.”

His heart betrayed him then, thundering perilously in his chest over that hunk of metal set atop her cascade of wavy hair. Could he be foolish, and romantic, and tell her that this is all he wanted? All he thought about?

Katara of the Southern Water Tribe, Master Waterbender, the Avatar’s teacher, Stormbender, the Ice Lady, founder of the United Republic and his _wife_. Probably the least impressive of her accolades, being stuck with him.

He really knew how to spiral, that was for sure, Katara probably would have seen it plain on his face, if she hadn’t pivoted slightly, lost in thought. Maybe she was thinking like he had the first few times he wore the headpiece—how heavy it was, _unnaturally_ , like it had its own gravitational pull. Between that and his mantle his body had been sore for weeks at the beginning of his reign.

“Okay, maybe not _just_ a hunk of metal,” Katara eventually said, flexing her hands, as if they were sweating.

She huffed an awkward laugh, jaw clenched afterwards, and even though she was in profile to him, he could practically see the thoughts racing through her mind behind blue eyes. It was not a foreign expression to him—fear all balled up, festering, yet despite its familiarity, more incoherent nonsense burst out of him.

“I threw up the morning of my coronation,” he said. 

Katara turned to him, brow raised, eyes first on his chest and then on his face. “You were pretty severely injured.”

“I was nervous,” he said. “Terrified, actually.” He collapsed against the edge of his desk and ran a hand along his neck. “I had just figured out how to be a decent human being, and somehow I was supposed to be this transcendent, benevolent leader. I was _sixteen_.”

She stepped a little closer to him. “I should have stayed, Zuko.”

Of course she’d say that, a thought he had with some fondness, though often he worried she put others so far ahead of everything she lost herself entirely.

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “It wasn’t your responsibility-,”

“Not sure it was _entirely_ yours either,” Katara replied.

Zuko took her hand, her eyes met his when he squeezed tight. “I just meant you aren’t alone in this, like I felt sometimes,” he said. “And it’s not the same, of course, I know this is more for you, I mean it’s the _Fire Nation_ , but you’ll always have me at your side.”

She leaned closer, between his knees, and raised her free hand to cup his face. “That’s the best part,” she whispered, with such burning intensity he couldn’t help but believe her. 

He leaned to close the scant distance between them and kiss her, but before he could capture her lips, she hummed and dropped his hand to reach for her hair.

“I don’t think we can kiss with me in the headpiece, pretty sure that would make us like, married or something,” she said. “Or be bad luck.”

“If only it were that easy,” he replied.

Katara pried the crown from her head and held it between them. “I heard we don’t even kiss at the wedding.”

“That’s true,” he said. “Just hand-holding and droning Fire Sages.”

“We’ll have to make up for it now,” she replied, coy curve in her lip before he smiled back and grabbed her waist to pull them together.

Katara rested her hand on the nape of his neck when their lips met, headpiece in the other hand clattering against the desk so she could trace the line of his robes on his chest. He usually scrunched the fabric across her back with his fingers, pulled her impossibly close, but he could already hear her chiding him not to wrinkle her new ensemble.

She drew away after a few moments—he was tempted, but didn’t follow her—and she gave him a curious look.

“Why is the headpiece on _top_ of the _very_ first drawer in your desk?” she asked.

He flushed red. “You know,” he said, clearing his throat. “Something to look forward to.”

Her eyes softened and she settled against his chest, hardly a breath apart. “Don’t tell me it’s so bad now.” 

“It’s not, Katara,” he said immediately. “You know it’s not.”

She reached beside him and scooped up the crown, giving it one last look before setting it gently back in its box. “You’re needlessly torturing yourself mooning over this every night.”

“I prefer _dramatically pining_ , thank you,” he replied, smiling weakly.

 _Pining_ implied this future was not an absolute certainty, that it was something to hope, rather than wait for, which he didn’t mean. She shook her head, fondly exasperated, while his grip on her waist loosened. Probably good insurance against the possibility of someone bursting into his office in the middle of the day.

When she stepped away, she fiddled with the waist belt Hong-Li had made and meticulously and impressively embroidered with gold thread.

“I suppose I should ask what you think about it,” he said, gesturing to her.

Katara looked up at him and then tilted her head in thought. “It is a little weird. What it all _means_ as opposed to just, you know, wearing it.”

“I get that,” he said.

“I’m basically telegraphing my intentions,” she said, one hand tugging at her hair and the other flapping vaguely. “I wear all these regal clothes and they’ll accuse me of being the evil water witch who wants to trap the Fire Lord in her thrall and be crowned Fire Lady.”

“I would never let them say that,” Zuko said, frowning slightly.

“Directly to you, anyway,” she replied.

She was right, though he opened his mouth to immediately protest—to assure her that no one, ever, would disparage her if he had anything to do with it. Not when she had given so much to be here to help and worked so hard out of sheer kindness and determination despite all that was done to her.

“Katara-,”

She gave a short laugh to stop him. “Zuko, it’s okay.”

It was absolutely not, but there was nothing he could do about it since he could hardly keep people from trying to kill _him_ and he‘d called the Fire Nation home for almost all his life.

“I would never let anything happen to you,” he insisted. “Whatever they say, I wouldn’t…”

“They’re wrong,” she said. “That’s all that matters.”

He drew to his full height to embrace her, holding tight. “I love you,” he murmured into her hair, when he could think of nothing else to say. Of course her detractors were wrong, but perhaps the problem was how long it would take for them to realize that, or if they ever would, no matter what she wore.

“I love you too,” she whispered back, and it was enough for now, knowing she meant it. 

====

Zuko would be so insufferable hearing it, but he’d been right about the house. Not just the house, actually, bringing in waterbenders from the North, too. She was not so petty she couldn’t admit it had been a good idea, but maybe she’d bring it up more often if he didn’t smile so smugly anytime it was mentioned.

Of all the parts of the small estate, the gardens were the most impressive, and probably where she spent the most time because it’s where she trained with the girls in the mornings. Since she’d left the North Pole, Lirin and Nutha had not been as diligent about training in combat waterbending, no doubt because Katara was not there to advocate for them in the face of the pervasive pressure to _only_ heal, which she tried not to feel guilty about. Taina had refused any such lessons at first, probably out of pride, since she didn’t want to lag behind the younger girls, but Katara had caught glimpses of her watching them from the second story of the house, and then sometimes at night, she’d sneak back into the gardens and practice the moves alone. Since then, Katara had offered to train her one-on-one until she caught up.

It was not all training, and healing, though Katara had tried that approach at first, before it became quickly apparent that other people weren’t so driven, focused—Lirin and Nutha were ten when the war ended, and before then, barring the single battle against Zhou, had lived a normal life behind the ice walls of the North Pole. They were, perhaps in an unkind word to Katara, _normal_. They’d never been the last of their kind. They weren’t full of rage, nurturing desperate vendettas or obsessed with progress. Lirin loved to read historical scrolls and was trying to perfect her recipe for ash banana bread. Nutha had met some girls from the Royal Academy who played kuai ball on the beach after their classes, and she’d join them most days, when she wasn’t gushing about how cute Fire Nation boys (Zuko, in particular) were. 

Katara’s memories of that age had no such simplicity, tranquility, which might have disappointed her once, but by now it was enough that she could have a hand in crafting a world where everyone at that age had a chance at a real childhood and not one tarnished by war.

That was a little easier to do since she had fewer tasks on her plate, less criss-crossing through the caldera, more time in the palace, trying to make reluctant allies out of enemies, or at least convince those who doubted her that she did have the best interest of the Fire Nation at heart (along with everywhere else).

One night, on her short walk from the palace, she arrived home to an empty house. That morning she’d been told it was music night at Makoto’s tea shop and Katara agreed the girls could attend after their insistence that it would be good _cultural enrichment_.

So Katara trotted into the dark house and lit a fire, more for tea than anything, though she lamented that Zuko was not there as he made much quicker work in the hearth. She put out a teacup for herself and set the kettle on top of the quickly growing flame before heading up the stairs in the meantime to drop off at her desk the messages she’d collected throughout the day.

She had just crested the landing of the stairs and headed for her door when there was a scrabbling on the other side of it. She immediately froze, then uncorked her waterskin, straining her ears for more suspicious sounds. After a few seconds of tense silence, there was a scrape and the rattling of glass, the window, being _opened_ —

Katara put two fingers together and dragged a long dagger of ice from her waterskin. The door was already ajar, so she carefully placed one foot forward, readying herself to fling it open.

The wood floor creaked in her bedroom, each squeak perilously closer, and when it was inches from her, she rammed her shoulder into the door. It sailed open and hit its target with a _thunk_ —a sickening _crack_ actually—before the intruder toppled to the floor.

“Oh _fuck_ -,”

Katara whirled around the door, ice dagger reared back, but she really should have recognized the voice because when her eyes registered _the Fire Lord_ sitting pathetically on the floor holding his nose, the ice melted instantaneously in her hand. 

“ _Zuko_?”

He raised his head, the white of his eyes shining in the darkness, though what distracted her was the blood dribbling between the fingers clamped over his nose.

“Oh, shit, Zuko-,”

She immediately fell to her knees beside him and brought her waterskin to her lap. He tried to speak but his words were garbled behind his hand.

Katara coaxed the remains of her waterskin into the space between them, while he moved his arm. More blood had streaked across his cheeks, stark against pale skin, and she instinctively grimaced, though before he could complain, she pressed her hand to his face.

The water glowed blue after a few moments of concentration—she soothed the bruised skin but otherwise had not broken the bone clean in half, thankfully. When she pulled her hand away, plunging them into darkness, she heard him give a sigh of relief.

“What the hell were you doing?” she demanded.

“You broke my nose!” he cried in protest.

“I _fixed_ your _bruised_ nose,” she said. “And only because you snuck into my room like some kind of _psychopath_ -,”

“I was trying to surprise you!” he said, then gestured to his black clothing. “This is the only way I can get out of the palace without it being a whole _deal_.” 

“You _snuck out_?” she began incredulously. “Zuko-,”

“I’m very sneaky!” he insisted.

Katara dropped her face in her hand, half to side her smile. “You’re incorrigible.”

“Well I can’t get Toph to come down here and earthbend a secret tunnel for us,” he muttered.

Even more than half a decade after the fact, she cringed at the phrase _secret tunnel_ , burying her face deeper to hide what was now a wide smile.

“Please don’t tell me you actually asked her that.”

“I’m considering,” he said. “Break my nose again and we may need a better system for our meetings.”

“Bruised,” she countered with a light shove. “And there’s not a _system_ , Zuko, this is—risky. I have roommates, they’re _wards_ , basically-,”

“You told me they were going to music night at that tea shop!” he said indignantly. “I remembered you teased me relentlessly about playing the tsungi horn.”

“Alright, yes,” she admitted, then used his shoulder to help her climb to her feet. “But _still_ , you should have warned me.”

“Would have made for a lame surprise,” he remarked, watching her as she walked over to her dresser and sopped up some water from a basin with a washcloth.

Katara waved him over to the foot of her bed, and once he was set down, she settled beside him. She turned his face to hers with a few fingers on his jaw and began wiping away the blood on his nose.

“I kind of hate surprises,” she muttered.

“Nosy know-it-alls usually do,” he replied, grin peeking out from one side of the cloth as she wiped the last of the blood away.

She stopped, scandalized gasp coming first before she laughed. Her rag hit the floor with a wet _slap_. “You have been hanging out with Sokka too long.”

Zuko waved a hand and with a hiss the candles beside her bed lit up, casting orange light across the room.

“There was more to the surprise,” he said.

“Oh really?” she began. “Because you sneaking into my room like some weird ninja was plenty for me-,”

“I have something for you.” 

She raised one eyebrow in a skeptical look. “Please don’t take off your pants.”

“Okay I have not spent _that_ long around Sokka,” he said with a short laugh. 

Katara merely nudged him in reply, while he reached into one dark pocket and extracted a small box.

“Here,” he said, presenting it to her. 

_Another_ box, ornate, holding precious treasures, and Katara tried not to be nervous again. He’d given her the crown a few weeks ago, and she’d put it on her head, because she wanted to, there were appealing things about being Fire Lady after all, no matter how daunting it was otherwise. Ultimately the realness of it outweighed the general appeal and she only hoped Zuko could not tell how spooked she was.

She shook those thoughts from her head—it’s like she’d forgotten how to appropriately accept a gift—though like Sokka’s boomerang this anxiety always seemed to fling itself back into her mind at the most inconvenient times. Zuko flicked open the box, and even in the low light, she saw something sparkling and her brows knit together immediately.

“Oh,” she began. “Wow—spirits, this is….”

It was an exquisite bracelet, a cuff with parallel rows of faceted red stones. Barring her necklace, jewelry had never really been in her catalogue of personal belongings and certainly nothing this extravagant.

“Let me explain,” he said hastily, a few beats after she’d trailed off. 

She realized stupefied silence was probably not how people receiving gifts should react. “No, Zuko, I love it,” she insisted. “It’s beautiful.”

He shut the box and put it beside him to take her hand. “I know you, come on,” he said. “Your first thought when you saw this was that you could sell it in exchange for new textbooks at the school outside the caldera.”

Accurate, but he didn’t seem too offended by it, so she just smiled sheepishly. “New desks, actually, but you got it for me so-,”

“Listen,” he said. “I know this isn’t the kind of thing you normally wear-,”

She was blushing furiously now. “I like it, really!”

He reached up and tucked her hair behind her ear. “I got this from the vault,” he said. “It belonged to my mother. And my grandmother.”

That tracked, since she’d never seen anything like it before. Gold cuffs, sure, some even dotted with jewels, but never made _entirely_ of them.

Katara flung her arms around his shoulders to hug him, nestling her head in the crook of his neck. 

“Are you really sure I can wear this?” she asked. “I mean maybe _someday_ -,”

He leaned back slightly so he could look at her. She could still see traces of moisture on his nose where she’d wiped his blood away.

“It would mean something, if you wore it,” he said. 

She swallowed roughly. “Well—do we, I mean, is it the right time?”

His good eye widened slightly. “No, no, you don’t have to wear it now,” he said, then hesitated and brushed his fingers over her hair again. “But I felt bad after our last conversation on this. Well, _all_ our conversations, I keep pushing…”

“No, not at all,” she said, grabbing his arm. “Zuko-,”

His cheeks flushed red. “I am at least, you know, not _chill_ about it-,”

“You are pretty intense about everything, yes,” she remarked with a small smile. 

“I just…” He stopped and shook his head. “I thought that you could keep it and one day when you decide that you’re ready, you can…”

She reached for the box and slid the bracelet out from where it was secured, inspecting it in the flickering light. “Be the envy of all the women in the Fire Nation?”

“I don’t know about that,” he muttered. “But it would make my intentions quite clear.”

Possibly for the first time, she was a little smug at that thought. Wearing it and settling primly down for their afternoon meeting, waiting for Arata to notice and begin whispering furiously about why a precious Fire Nation heirloom was on _her_ wrist. They might be shocked, or angry—bursting with reproach, but that wouldn’t _change_ anything. They’d be scared, in the end, wouldn’t they? That the scrappy little waterbender they looked down their noses at would be _Your Highness_. 

Katara set the bracelet in her lap and met his gaze. “This is sweet, Zuko.”

“You don’t ever have to put it on, if you change your mind,” he said, then reached up to rub his neck. “Or you can in a month, or a year, or twenty years-,”

“The Fire Sages would mutiny.”

“I want you to be ready.” He lifted one hand a few inches before it flopped back against him. “I don’t want you to stop waiting just because of what I want.” 

She snapped the bracelet over her wrist and inspected it. Her first thought was that all this Fire Nation jewelry was impossibly heavy.

“Is this technically a proposal?” she asked. 

“No,” he said. “It’s just—I wanted something more meaningful, to show _I’m_ ready, and then for you to decide, without having to….” He cleared his throat. “Sorry, this is stupid, isn’t it?” 

It was no surprise after all this time Zuko was still trying to commemorate this commitment, as if she didn’t believe it.

“No, it’s very thoughtful,” she replied. 

He rubbed the unscarred side of his face. “I’m not great at relationships. Or gifts or-,” 

She dragged his hand down and replaced it with hers, gentle fingers across his cheek. “You’re wonderful at those things,” she said. “And more.”

He leaned forward and pressed their lips together, which predictably in a darkened bedroom sent her tingling all the way to her toes. His arms snaked around her waist and pulled them together, though she separated from him after a few moments.

“You know, I changed my mind, maybe you should take off your pants,” she said, grinning crookedly.

Zuko smiled back. “That _was_ actually the other part of the surprise.” 

“Well it would be rude to refuse a gift,” she replied, kissing him fully a few times as she tipped into him and unfastened the knot on his robes. She helped him pull off his tunic and surrender it to the pool of darkness at their feet the candlelight couldn’t reach, her fingers returning to the hard planes of his chest. He seemed to be trying to make similar work of her clothes when she sat back.

“Do you want tea first?” she asked.

He gave her an amused look. “Uh, not particularly?”

“I left the kettle on downstairs before your ambush,” she said. “Let me at least douse the flames, I don’t want to burn the house down.”

“Keep me around and that won’t be a problem,” he replied.

She planted one last kiss on the side of his mouth. “If you insist.”

Zuko reluctantly released her waist and she wiggled off the edge of the bed. She hurried across the room to open the door, yanked it open in the darkened room without a thought, into the hallway, where a willowy waterbender was standing. Her mouth dropped open when they made eye contact.

 _Oh no_ , Katara thought, and then _fuck_.

“Taina!” she blurted out, shrill, yanking the door close to her in the threshold so it was pressed to her hip and blocking Zuko from view. “W-What are you doing here?”

She quirked one eyebrow. “I live here.”

“No, I meant—you were supposed to be out, with the girls?” she said.

Taina frowned slightly. “Lirin tried her hand at playing the tsungi horn, it was giving me a migraine.”

“You just left them?” Katara asked incredulously.

“Lee said he’d bring them back when it was over,” she said with a dismissive wave. “They’ll be fine.”

Katara mirrored her frown, but said nothing further. Taina was technically only six months younger than her, so while Lirin and Nutha felt like her responsibility, it had already caused friction when she tried to be her usual _somewhat_ maternal self to someone who was arguably a (very independent) adult.

Taina didn’t look annoyed, though, just a little smug as her dark eyes flicked to the door. Katara tensed, though its not as if Taina could see _through_ it.

“I certainly didn’t mean to interrupt,” she remarked. “You know, you and the Fire Lord-,”

“Not the Fire Lord,” Katara interjected hurriedly, lying, and not too well, she guessed.

“Oh sure,” she said. “Just some other guy with a scar on half his face?”

Katara immediately regretted arranging the furniture in the room so that the bed faced her _door_. She made an exasperated sound and squeezed herself out into the hallway, closing the door firmly behind her back.

“Fine,” she said. “You know he’s my friend, we were just talking.”

“He didn’t have a shirt on.”

“Shirtless talking.”

A short laugh left Taina at that, while Katara flushed crimson.

“You cannot write _home_ about this,” she insisted, and Taina shook her head.

“No shit,” she replied. “I mean, you understand having sex before marriage at _all_ in the North Pole is bad enough-,”

“We _weren’t_ -,”

“-and _you’re_ doing it with the _Fire Lord_.”

Katara had reached up to rub the bridge of her nose, before her hand flopped to her side. “It’s not what you think.”

Taina tsked and shook her head. “Nutha is going to be so disappointed, she really thought she had a shot with him. You know, handsome prince and all.”

“Alright, you’ve had your fun,” she said exasperatedly. “And this is-,” A groan left her. “-well it’s supposed to be a secret, but lately-,”

Taina raised a hand. “I think we can come to an agreement.”

Katara furrowed her brow. “What do you mean?”

She crossed her arms. “You don’t write home about _me_ , and I won’t write home about you.”

“Uh-,”

The waterbender snorted at her apparent confusion. “Oh, I’m sorry, did you think you’re the only woman your age not interested in the archaic traditions of the uptight old men in the North Pole?” she began. “Half the reason I came here was to escape _another_ arranged marriage, waiting around for lackluster sex with some arrogant idiot-,”

Last Katara heard they were trying to pair her off with Hahn, so she could not blame her for preferring to flee, but still shifted and gave a small sigh.

“Alright, I get it,” she said. “I’d never tell them about anything you do here that you didn’t want me to.”

“So I won’t tell Arnook that you’re-,” Taina stopped and gestured vaguely to the door. “Well, I don’t know what the fuck to call this.”

“Let’s call it nothing, and you can just forget it happened,” Katara said, then awkwardly cleared her throat. “And just, you know, be safe if _you_ decide to-,”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, with the mothering,” Taina muttered under her breath, as she pivoted on her heel to her room.

“It’s not _mothering_ ,” Katara protested, but Taina pulled open her door and snapped it shut behind her with nothing more than a dramatic roll of her eyes.

Katara huffed and wrenched open her own door before walking inside. Zuko had put his shirt back on and was laying on the bed with his hands on his stomach.

“This is all your _fault_ ,” she hissed, collapsing against the door with a defeated breath.

He propped himself on his elbows. “Hey, don’t blame me-,”

“Who’s next?” she asked exasperatedly. “I mean, Ming, Haruka, Kaida, Dai-,”

“Dai doesn’t have _proof_ -,”

“And now Taina!” she said, hand on her forehead. “Not to _mention_ Suki, Toph, my father-,”

“Aang doesn’t know, does that help?” he asked. 

She scowled at him. “Of course not, he probably _should_ know by now!”

Zuko climbed off her bed and walked over to her, hands on her shoulders. “Kat, it’s alright,” he insisted. “Ming has a vested interest in keeping things a secret, Haruka literally worships you and Dai knows nothing. Even if they all told other people, it would be baseless rumor.”

“Until I open _another_ door and next time you’re _naked_ -,”

He chuckled. “Okay, so maybe we try to avoid that.”

Her head tipped back against the door and she closed her eyes. She felt his fingers close over her wrist, on the bottom half of the bracelet still circling her arm. His lips pressed into the pulse point under her palm.

“So I feel like you’re _not_ in the mood for the rest of your surprise.”

Katara gave a hapless laugh and smacked him with her free hand on the side. “I’ve had enough of those today, thank you.”

Just as he stepped very obviously back into her personal space, pressed against her, and she wasn’t _really_ going to deny him at least a goodnight kiss, a door creaked open and she heard Taina slip out again into the hallway. She called out as she crossed in front of Katara’s room.

“You and Fire Lord Boyfriend want some tea?” she asked.

Katara grit her teeth. “No, thank you!” she shouted crossly, and Taina laughed as her footsteps clunked down the stairs.

Zuko looked amused instead of supremely annoyed and kissed her soundly on the mouth before stepping back. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Kat.”

She folded her arms over her chest and stayed propped up by the door as he crossed the room to the window. “Try not to get caught on your way back home, alright?”

He slid his fingers into the crack of the window and hoisted it open. “You forget I told you I was very sneaky.”

When he turned to swing one leg through the window, he grinned at her, while she just snorted.

“Goodnight, Zuko.”

“Night, Katara,” he replied, and then his back was to her as he deftly hopped to the ground and out of sight.


End file.
